Why I Run

It occurred to me today on my run

that some people may not really know why I joined Team Hoyt. 

Sure, they may have heard about my brother passing,

and known this race is in his honor,

but I wanted to explain how it is so much more than that. 

I joined Team Hoyt in 2011 because I grew up with a brother with a disability. 

It was my every day. 

And I certainly don't mean that in a bad way; in fact, just the opposite. 

Growing up with a brother with a disability meant that I was given the advantage of learning that we all have our differences, our own special obstacles, 

and regardless of what they are, 

we all deserve kindness and respect.

People with disabilities have come a long way.

This is mostly thanks to the fight of so many of their family members. 

My brother, for instance, escaped having to go to a special school. 

His mind worked just fine, and so my parents fought for him to be in public school with us. 

Dick Hoyt and his wife were told to put Rick in an institution. 

Instead of staring at four gray walls, he's now seen the world. 

The point of me running this race,

and doing so right after having a baby,

is to spark attention.

But don't be confused in that I want the attention for myself. 

I dont' want the attention on my brother passing either.

This attention is to hopefully direct you to the world of disability awareness.

Inclusion. 

A world where these people feel accepted.

This inclusion brings comfort, confidence and prosperity.

I saw this in my brother. 

He grew up in a world where he was treated no differently by his family and peers. 

I know this world is possible, and so I run to bring this possibility to other people's lives. 

I run for Ryan; to celebrate his incredible existence.

I run for the Hoyts; to celebrate their fight for disability awareness.

I wish every day that I could visit these courageous people and be a part of that difference. 

But I am raising my own family, and so I leave it in the hands of the Hoyt Foundation. 

They work so hard to make sure that so many lives are touched and brightened. 

You too can be a part of it!

To make a donation to the Hoyt Foundation, please click HERE.

Feeling Good

One of the greatest feelings in the world is the feeling of accomplishment. 

I'm not sure what it is about this week, 

but it has given me high hopes that this crazy path I chose to go down

is actually going to happen, and in good fashion.

When I was pregnant, the idea of juggling two kids, training and fundraising seemed doable.

Then I was all of a sudden juggling two kids, training and fundraising,

and I honestly felt that I wasn't going to be able to pull it off. 

Dollars weren't coming in like they did the first time around. 

People didn't seem as interested. 

My body was out of shape.

My head was tired.

I was trying to work out an impossible schedule. 

But somehow, and like most things generally do,

everything worked itself out. 

I started training smarter and exercising my core instead of just my legs. 

That turned two miles of slow jogging and walking 

to running long distances in sub 10-minute miles. 

This gave me a stronger body and a clearer mind,

and I believe that played a huge role in boosting my confidence in fundraising.

Now I am hoping to organize a fabulous fundraiser with a local company here in Memphis.

My fingers are crossed, but with how great things have been going, 

I imagine that everything is going to fall into place as it should. 

Today we enjoyed a beautiful run in 60 degree weather.

Special thanks to my sidekick girlfriend for keeping me entertained on the road.

As I find myself in this great happy place,

I hope that my teammates and anyone reading this finds theirs. 

Cheers, friends!

(And cheers to you, too, Ryan)

If you need help finding your happy place, 

I think you can find it here.

A Bad Run

Every runner knows that you have good running days and bad running days.

My long run this Saturday was a bad one. 

I'm not sure what made it bad??

Perhaps the beef stew the night before was a little too hearty.

Maybe it was the blanket of snow that gave me a scare.

Or it could have just been that I didn't want to run because I didn't want to run.

All I know is that I did everything to back out. 

I texted my Dad about the weather, hoping he would say to sit it out. 

Instead he gave me a "You can do it!" text right back.

I messaged my northern teammates.

I have no clue why I expected sympathy from them. 

About 80% of my team runs in mounds of snow daily. 

One of them even posted sweat icicles hanging from his face after his run.

My most favorite teammate Jen rocked one hell of a shiner thanks to ice.

Another went to the ER to stitch up his forehead from his slippery run.

Part of being on an inspirational team includes plenty of inspiring teammates.

I got flooded with Yes You Can! messages. 

And really, yes I could. 

So off I went. 

The beginning was tough. 

I was probably being over cautious of the road conditions. 

I mean, let's be honest, 1 inch of snow doesn't really wreak havoc. 

But I was taking my time. Watching every step. 

Convincing myself that every wet patch I saw was ice.

After about 4 miles, I felt a little more comfortable, and it was actually quite peaceful. 

Well, until I realized that my loop wasn't long enough.

In retrospect, I think that changing my course half way through was a bad idea.

I'm a creature of habit. I like running loops. 

I know where I'm at. I know how far I have left. 

It gives me something to look forward to and thus, something to push for. 

So when I thought I was at mile 8 of 13, and my GPS told me otherwise, I was pissed.

I had to improvise a couple miles, which threw me off balance mentally. 

I never walked. I never stopped. 

I finished, but absolutely, positively felt every dern mile of that run. 

I was so tense that my neck hurt. 

Post-run photo. Quite literally could not smile. 

A terrible photo. 

And truth be told, I took like 15, and this was the best one.

My recovery wasn't any better. 

Maybe it was the leftover beef stew? I really want to blame the stew.

Who knows, but I could hardly walk up the stairs afterwards. 

To get down, I went step by step on my rear. 

Getting into bed, you'd think I was a crotchety old man. 

I did everything right. 

I put the weekday runs in. 

I went to boot camp. 

I drank lots of water. Even electrolyte water.

It was just a bad run. 

But as my Dad said in reply to my whining that this run was worse than birthing a baby, 

"Had to be done. It's 'good' pain."

The good news is that it's a new week! 

and better yet, it's a recovery week.

This weekend, I only have to run 10 miles,

which mind-blowingly sounds like a breeze to me.

177 miles logged in so far.

283 more to go before the big 26.2.

11 weeks until I take on Boston!

Running for Ryan 5k

What do you get when you mix together a restaurant manager, bartender, lawyer, web designer, and a dad?

Apparently a whole flipping non-profit organization and a 5k race. 

The Ryan Shuck Foundation and Running 4 Ryan 5k came together nicely,

but it wasn't without total dedication and determination from a great group of people.

I met Eddie Kabbage at the SoHo Tavern on the night of Ryan's wake.

He was working down the street and took time from his break to come over and speak with me. 

It was short. 

It was beyond sweet. 

It ended with me telling my parents that there was to be a 5k in Ryan's name. 

A whole 5k? By September? 

Do these people know what they're getting themselves into?

Are they really serious?

Did you say by September?

These were all questions that were immediately discussed. 

And fortunately for us, they were immediately answered. 

Like, days later.

YES.

A big fat, undeniable YES.

Members of Ryan's community.

Friends from the neighborhood.

Bartenders from his favorite watering holes.

Sisters.

Parents.

We were all on board this crazy train. 

It meant too much to all of us to let a moment like it pass us by. 

We were all hurt by Ryan's loss, 

and it seriously stung to get planning so quickly,

but we knew how turning it into something positive would have longer, more positive effects than grief.

And now it's here. 

Countless hours have been spent fine-tuning what we believe will be a fun, honorable day for Ryan. 

Here are the main points:

If you live here in town, you can register HERE.

Trust me, you do not have to be a runner to participate in a 5k. 

In fact, I will be waddling a butterball of a baby whilst pushing the 45-lb sand bag that is my four-year-old, so you really have no excuse.

It's 3.1 miles. Which is essentially like walking both stories of the International Plaza twice.

(Seriously, I just Googled that.)

Run. Race. Walk. Skip. Shuffle. 

There's bound to be a lot of people willing to make the trot with you.

OK, so you're registered. Now what?

Get a team together. Family. Friends. Co-workers. The guy/gal you needed an excuse to talk to.

What harm can come from literally walking in the park for a good cause? 

Not to mention that there is a free buffet and Coors Light at MacDinton's afterwards.

Teams have no limit to the number of persons, and the goal is to raise as much money as you can.

OK, OK, you live in town, but 5ks aren't your thing.

I respect that. Running, let alone in September, isn't for everyone. 

But we need volunteers! 

Photographers. Hydration Station. Cheerleaders. Race Goodie Bag Stuffers. 

There is a lot of opportunity to pitch in.

That's how this all came together, after all. Teamwork.

You will not be town, but wish you could be here.

No sweat. Literally.

But, you can totally participate by way of sponsorship or donation.

Sponsorships are pretty pricey, but most definitely have their perks for your business.

Donations are so important, no matter the size. 

When I raised money for the Boston Marathon, I was equally as pumped to see $10 as I was $1,000.

In fundraising, every penny really does count.

Donations can be mailed in to the foundation - click here for that address.

The Dalai Lama says that if you think positively going into something,

that there's no way to finish it without finding some level of satisfaction and success.

And who could argue with this face?

So think about how you can contribute.

Run. Walk. Stroll.

Skip Starbucks for a few days and throw down a Jackson.

Hand water out to thirsty runners on a hot September day in Florida.

Talk to your boss about sponsorship.

Lead a team that will walk away with a trophy on race day.

Pop out your fold-out chair in Al Lopez Park and cheer on the runners on race day.

Share details on Facebook or whatever media outlet you fancy.

Join us at MacDinton's to toast SoHo's incredibly missed Mayor.

The hardest step is the first, people.

Running for Ryan Returns

Prelude:
I promise this to be the last post that reflects sad emotions; however, some things just have to be said.

Writing this blog post has been a most dreaded, yet highly anticipated task for me. 

The past two months have filled my life with more confusion and feelings unknown, 

that I was actually looking forward to writing them down to help myself understand.

Ryan passed away unexpectedly on May 12th. Mother's Day.

What's strange is that the day itself seems so distant, so fuzzy, 

except the moment that evening I found out the news.

That's all extremely clear, and it's painful. 

Maybe it's due to movies and television, 

or perhaps because I am one to love drama,

but I've actually pictured how I would react to the news of a death.

And it was nothing like I'd pictured. 

It's actually not at all how I imagined.

In fact, I remember telling my husband that night how badly I wanted it all to be over. 

As if after the funeral it would all just disappear and I could carry on.

But that was not the case at all. 

Instead, I think about it every day. It's even inescapable in dreams. 

And if there is a moment in which I find myself carrying on, 

I find myself in a pool of guilt. 

(Which I realize is just as acceptable a feeling as it is ridiculous.)

There was one moment when I was driving home from a particularly hard day at work. 

Windows were down. Music was up. I was breathing sighs of relief.

And that alone had me questioning how I could possibly enjoy a moment like that.

Or the moment I was on a boat on Lake Michigan watching fireworks,

and couldn't help but feel completely saddened that I got to see something so spectacular.

I'm sure these feelings will come and go for months. Years. 

I'm sure every scooter that passes me on the street will make me stop and look again.

I'm sure I'll still get upset when someone complains about turning another year older 

when they should really be grateful. 

I'm sure every time my son asks when Uncle Ryan is coming back down from the clouds

it will completely break my heart. 

I'm absolutely sure that I will never forget who my brother was and what he meant to me.

I'm not positive what I believe as far as where Ryan is now. 

But I do believe that in some way or another, 

we are still connected. 

Whether he is perched on a cloud and looking down on us,

or reincarnated into some other body,

or perhaps some energy in the atmosphere,

I feel certain that he approves of me taking his passing as a lesson in my life.

A gift that teaches me and those around me to appreciate what we have here on earth.

To not complain. 

To take care of our bodies and minds.

To be kind and help others.

To take advantage of every single breath we are given.

See the world. Feel loved. Experience life fully. 

To not "live every day like it's your last,"

but rather, just live every day.

Ryan's passing will always be painful and confusing to me. 

Really, I was always confused as to why he had to struggle. 

I remember telling my grandma when I was young that I wanted to switch lives with Ryan. 

And her reply didn't come back to me until the day of Ryan's funeral.

She said,

"Kellyn, that is a nice thought, but you don't want that. 

You were meant to be you. And Ryan was meant to be Ryan. 

You both are special in your own ways."

She was right. 
We both were meant to impact the world differently.

Ryan was Ryan. And he's absolutely irreplaceable.

And in light of the song playing,

perhaps he was a King, and I'm a Lionheart. 

He left behind a strong message, 

and I'll see to it that that message is heard.

Luckily, I'm not alone. 

Ryan's friends and half of SoHo approached my family right after Ryan's passing. 

Together we formed The Ryan Shuck Foundation.

A foundation in which we will actively honor and pay respect to Ryan's life,

and in doing that, help those who share similar struggles.

You see, I think Ryan left this life and went onto the next because he was ready. 

He had experienced what takes most people nearly a century to do.

He understood his struggles. He understood himself. 

He also understood that you live this life only once, and he lived it well. 

His favorite song in high school was Bon Jovi's "It's My Life."

He would pull into the garage, park for (I'm not kidding) an hour,

and listen to it on repeat. Seriously, over and over.

It drove me and Nikki crazy. 

In fact, it was the first laugh we shared when I got to Tampa for Ryan's funeral.

Anyway, the lyrics read:

I ain't gonna be just a face in the crowd

You're gonna hear my voice when I shout it out loud.

It's my life. 

It's now or never. 

I ain't gonna live forever.

I just want live while I'm alive.

It's my life.

Maybe Ryan knew that he wasn't going to live to be 85.

Regardless, he understood and embraced the life he had been given.

The Ryan Shuck Foundation will be for those who aren't as fortunate as Ryan.

For people with physical disabilities who need help finding the spirit that Ryan possessed.

To embrace life and live it fully.

To feel confident in thriving in the world.

Running for Ryan is still very much alive,
and I cannot express how proud that makes me.
Ryan had quite an impact while on earth, 
but to know he will continue to shake the planet makes me speechless.
(well, clearly not all that speechless.)

September 8th will be the first annual 
Running for Ryan 5k in Tampa, FL.

This year's proceeds will go to the Hoyt Foundation, of which Ryan and I felt very connected to. 

The 5k website will be up this week to register, but here's the jist of it:
1) Register to run 
2) Gather other registrants and create a team
3) Find sponsors and gather donations
4) Run race
5) Get a super prize for fundraising the most cheddar
6) Drinks buckets of Coors Light at MacDinton's afterwards

And we thought that we wouldn't see Ryan again... 

Running the Boston Marathon

It wasn't until I was on the plane ride home with my sleeping child in the seat next to me

that I finally got the chance to think about the weekend that I was departing from.

The 50 new faces who shared their gut-wrenchingly heartfelt stories

and the immediate connection I made with each of them.

The way my heart hiccuped when I noticed that Rick Hoyt had slipped into the room

and knowing that I was about to meet my hero.

The moment I was swept up by 3-time Boston Marathon winner Uta Pippig

and knowing how lucky I was to not only have her as a coach, but as a friend.

And finally, hearing my brother tell me the night before my race that he was proud of me.

I wept like a child.

But perhaps the most exciting part of it all,

and what should come as no surprise at all,

was the 26.2 from Hopkington to Boston.

In what would be revealed as record-setting heat,

the hottest city in America on that day,

on one of the most challenging courses in the world:

Team Hoyt lined up to make our victory lap.

Sweat. 

Good god, lots of sweat.

Tears. 

In my case, uncontrollable sobs.

Pain. 

A jammed toe, two funky knees and cramps.

Dizziness. 

Hydration took on a new definition.

Nausea.

Flooding your body with water, gatorade and Gu mixed in with 90-degree weather = gross.

Fear.

Watching people fall to the ground, rushed by ambulance and unconscious is frightful.

Question.

About 4,000 registered runners deferred this year's race.

But never ever once did I think about quitting.

This was the day I dreamt about for 6 months straight.

The moment I had been waiting for.

This was my victory lap

to celebrate the $10,275 I raised for the Hoyt Foundation,

to remember the 175 aprons I made to pay for my hotel room and plane tickets,

to honor my brother on the 29th anniversary of his accident,

to make my family and friends proud,

and to fulfill my heart to an extent that I didn't know was possible.

Next to childbirth, this was the most difficult and painful thing I've ever endured,

and yet, so incredibly enjoyable. 

The first 13 miles were hard. 

But I had my running partner, Jenny, with me. 

We pushed each other, reminded each other to hydrate.

I checked on her torn glutes, and she made sure my knees were holding up.

But high noon hits hard when on shadeless asphalt,

and running turned to jogging, 

jogging turned to awkward fast-steps,

fast-steps turned to walking.

We had our occasional burst of wind.

Teddy Bruschi.

Boston College.

Running into teammates.

But nothing would give us as much determination 

as when we actually found Dick and Rick on the course. 

Although slowed down to a walking pace,

they were in an extreme mindset. 

We followed. 

Then more teammates found us and joined.

Before we knew it, there was a strong group of 10 of us,

giving Dick and Rick their much deserved space,

but backing them up like an army.

For 6 miles, we walked (in my case limped)

and watched as our heroes marched on to their 30th Boston finish.

But they weren't just our heroes,

the entire crowd was moved, 

or oftentimes were waiting just to see them pass.

I knew how much they meant to me, 

but didn't entirely comprehend how much they meant to the community until that hike.

These two are what the Boston Marathon stands for.

Determination. Perseverance. Inspiration.

We made all made our final hike up to Boylston,

most of us at that point plagued with cramps, exhaustion and pain,

and then something amazing happened.

The other runners parted,  

and without a soul 100 yards in front of behind of us,

we all flew down Boylston to the finish. 

Together as Team Hoyt.

The crowds went wild. 

I crossed the finish line with Dick and Rick Hoyt on their 30th Boston Marathon.

It was a moment that I will never forget and will cherish forever.

Running the Boston Marathon with Team  Hoyt was not a chapter in my life,

it was a stepping stone to a new life.

I will run in my Team singlet in every race I run.

This will be my last blog post.

Until October 2012...when I start training for Boston 2013 as a Team Hoyt entrant.

The weekend in pictures:

Happy Happy.

Last night, my husband, his friend, Gray and I were driving home from a concert,

(Avett Brothers and Jimmy Buffett)

and we turned on Mumford  & Sons.

Gray announced that it was "his favorite,"

Kyle played "the car drum," which happened to be the door outside the car window,

and his friend and I sang.

It was a great moment.

During our performance, 

I couldn't help but think about how happy I was at that exact moment.

Volume up. Windows down. Singing loudly. 

And maybe it was that the image of vest-wearing, banjo players making me grin,

or perhaps we were still euphoric from dancing under fireworks,

but I like to think that at this point in my life,

and with all the hard work with fundraising and running,

that I was just happy.

As the two-week countdown begins to the final run in Boston,

I sat this morning and thought back to the previous 5 months.

The way my stomach dropped when I hit "send" to apply for Team Hoyt.

The tears that burst from my eyes when I received my acceptance letter.

The butterflies in my stomach when I called to tell Ryan.

How husband and I had to use our credit card to buy celebratory beers that night.

Realizing that I have absolutely no money to even get to Boston.

Realizing that fundraising itself is a full-time job.

Plugging in my sewing machine for the first time.

Teaching myself to make an apron, and following that by making 147.

Huffing and puffing through 2-milers, to finishing 20 with ease.

The hurt I felt when I discovered that my brother was slightly embarrassed.

The motivation it took to keep going. 

The bond that my father and I formed. 

The togetherness of all people who knew my family and then those who didn't.

The power I felt when I finally raised enough money to pay for my trip.

The friendships I've made with my teammates.

The hours I spent on the road instead of playing with my child.

And perhaps the greatest moment was realizing that it was me who was meant to do this.

Years ago, my mother told me that I came about 

because she and my father wanted to bring some light into the family after what happened.

But let's face it, 

I didn't exactly deliver that ray of sunshine every day during my youth.

However, I like to think now more than ever,

that this is the light that they were hoping for.

This experience has not been easy,

in fact, on many occasions I wanted to quit.

But through every pain in my knee, 

during every awful run that I cursed,

and every pang of guilt that I felt not spending with my son,

I learned that this light that I had to share was worth it all.

It is through this whole experience that I feel my life as of right now is complete.

And that makes me happy.

So, to Ryan:

You gave me the inspiration that I needed to make others aware.

This whole campaign was not about bringing attention to you,

but rather giving it to those who need it in your honor.

It warms my heart to know that through my efforts,

that other children will know that with perseverance, 

that they, too, can accomplish whatever they want in life.

To Mom and Dad:

Neither of you ever gave up in creating equal rights for Ryan,

while also keeping each of your children in mind.

Thank you for teaching these incredible values to our family.

I know you are proud,

and I'm happy to take over the torch that's been burning for 29 years now.

To all of you:

Thank you so very much for contributing to this cause,

and inevitably for your contribution to me and my family's hope and happiness.

Thank for you for the words of encouragement, support and kind words.

On April 16th, the anniversary of my brother's accident,

I will finish the Boston Marathon in honor of Ryan,

but it will most certainly not end the race for awareness and equality.

Thank you all again!

Here's a snapshot of this weekend's Parrotheads:

Join us at Beef's!

What do you get when you mix: 

Wings

Beer

and Shucks?

A shuckin' good time. 

That's what!

Mix in a little Hoyt

(ok, they'll be there in spirit)

and we have got a party!

Come support the Hoyt Foundation 

as we work together to better the lives of disabled youth!

15% of your food and drink ticket orders go to the Hoyt Foundation!

Come hang out with me and this kid:

Who knows, 

maybe even our favorite amigo will show:

So come eat some wings, drink some beer, say hello to me

and make a big difference! 

March 7, 2012

Beef O Brady's

8810 Himes Avenue

Tampa, FL

ALL DAY!!

(but we'll be rockin' and rollin' in the evening)

Come, or I'll come get you:

(I know, very intimidating)

Thanks to Beef's, my family's second home for many moons!

Fundraiser!!

You know,

I originally thought that after I decided to retire the apron-making

that I would have some time for rest.

But then I realized that I am Kellyn Gowen,

and I will only stop freaking the flip out when I'm dead.

I've had some difficulty balancing the many shades of Kellyn recently.

I have changed shifts at work.

I am slowly and sadly accepting the fact that I am moving in 3 months.

I am trying to recuperate from 2 weeks of Mardi Gras.

I am actively trying not to go insane from planning a toddler's birthday party.

This is just my personal life.

Aside from that:

I am feeding my body what seems like endless carbs to fuel 15+ milers

and paying really big grocery bills to support this.

I am coming to terms with my new running shoes that are badass, but sinfully fugly.

(Yes, fugly)

Preparing my mind for a PR half marathon in 10 days. (1:50:00)

(fingers crossed)

Planning a fundraiser that I know will be great, but fear it will flop.

Punching numbers together to ensure I have enough to even stay in Boston.

Punching numbers together to ensure I have enough money to drink in Boston.

Punching numbers together to ensure I have enough to buy Boston paraphernalia:

- Obnoxious 26.2 sticker for the whip

- Boston Marathon jacket, that I'm sure is entirely overpriced.

- Sam Adam 26.2 brew in honor of the race

Meanwhile, I'm trying to keep my cool because I like to convince people that I'm "laid back"

(somewhere, my husband is snickering at that comment)

It's all sorts of intense in the noggin. 

Luckily, I look cool on the outside.

Not.

BUT

The fundraiser IS going to be fabulous.

Come one, come all,

We will be kickin' it at Beef O' Brady's on Himes in Tampa

March 7, 2012

11 a.m. to 10 p.m.

You can give us a head's up that you're coming by RSVPing HERE

Door Prizes will include:

Spa Package from Touch Aveda Salon and Spa

Bella Petrella Sauce Basket

2012 Indy 500 Tickets

Ladies Accessories

There are also a few hopefuls:

Yankees Paraphernalia

Liquor and Spirits

I will additionally have my world famous aprons for sale,

along with some adorable baby hats.

ALSO - We have a cake being donated from the most amazing cake-maker ever:

Elise's Pieces 

If you all have not seen her creations yet,

consider coming just for this. 

If you have anything you would like to donate, please let me know!

This is how it works:

You can come into the restaurant at any time of the day to eat and drink.

15% of your ticket will go to the Hoyt Foundation!

I will be there, probably chasing my unruly monster child.

Anyone can sign up for the silent auction.

I will place a minimum bid and the bidding will go on all day.

Evening time should be the social event.

Come see the Shuck's in action during our trifecta of fun:

Wings, beer and friends. 

I will announce the winners of the door prizes at the end of the evening.

You do not have to be present for the name drawing.

And hopefully,

all of this combined will create one solid last effort to raise money and awareness.

So join us in the most delicious fundraiser ever! 

Who knows, maybe I'll even buy you a drink.

Speaking of which,

I would LOVE to get a chance to meet everyone before I debo out of Tampa.

I will be having happy hour cocktails at SoHo Tavern on Thursday night.

SoHo Tavern has been so incredible to me in my efforts,

and we should return the love and drink lots of their cold beer.

This will be the 1-month countdown to the big race.

Join me as I celebrate those who race the daily life marathons,

as I prepare to run one for them. 

Livin' on a Prayer

I've been trying to figure out what to post about.

I could go through mile-to-mile of the 12 I ran this weekend.

It was following a 3-hour birthday celebration at Chuck-e-Cheese

and fueled on a breakfast of greasy pizza,

which is impressive... 

but sort of a snoozefest. 

I could walk you through how much I loathe mid-week runs,

but get incredibly excited to go to bed early on Fridays so I can run my heart out the next day.

But I just did, and that's not much of a story after all. 

But there is a celebration to be had.

It's not an obvious celebration, but certainly worth celebrating.

This weeks marks the half-way point of my training. 

I downloaded a lot of Bon Jovi songs to aid in my celebration,

and my heart is fist pumping. 

Seriously though,

it's pumping really hard.

My heart, that is.

In 69 days I will run 26.2 miles with a ton of people who are are legit runners.

Who wear running sleeves that aren't actually attached to their shirts,

and have running shoes that even look fast,

who run and don't have to stop for the bathroom,

or some, I have learned, actually just don't stop.

These people actually had to run another marathon in record time 

in order to even be considered to participate in this race.

AND don't have to listen to Jon Bon Jovi to do it.

Unbelievable.

So, I'm half-way there.

And it is true that I'm living on a prayer.

I can only assume that 12 miles feels much different from 26.2. 

SO, in celebration of being half-way there, 

I present to you 13.1 reasons to donate to the Hoyt Foundation:

((13)) Team Hoyt chose me to run for their team in honor of my brother, Ryan.
I feel strongly that people with disabilities should be open to the same possibilities that able-bodied people are. The Hoyts are living proof, and I hope to give an ounce of hope to someone that they too can accomplish anything.

((12)) My training includes over 400 miles throughout the streets of New Orleans.
I'm not sure if I'm more impressed that I haven't been shot or that a pot hole hasn't swallowed me whole. You donate a dollar, I dodge bullets and leap over 400-year-old oak tree roots - fair trade.

((11)) I have given up my Friday night wine consumption and instead plan on how I'm going to better the lives of hopefully many.
I've been through hundreds of yards of fabric, dozens of spools of thread and countless hours just to get to Boston.
There I plan to visit the Children's Hospital of Boston, where I will see with my own eyes where my hard work and dedication and some of your dollars will go to. 

((10)) Dick and Rick Hoyt have finished 1,072 races together.
That includes 6 Ironman Triatholons, where Dick pulled Rick in an inflatable boat for 2.4 miles, biked 112 miles with Rick riding shotgun, then pushed him 26.2 miles.
And I thought my Saturday's were productive.

((9)) Rick Hoyt just turned 50, and his father, Dick, is 71.
I am 26... and suddenly my knees don't hurt anymore...

((8)) The Hoyt Foundation supports Easter Seals,
an organization that works endlessly to help people with disabilities to live full and productive lives.

((7)) Rick and Dick not only make me want to be a better sister to Ryan and to support people regardless of their condition, but to also to be a better mother. 
The unconditional love that they display makes me want to push, pull and wheel Gray in 1,000 races -
not because he can't, but because I would.

((6)) Being a part of this team has opened my eyes and heart to so many emotions and experiences.
From learning to sew, to battling runner's trots, to understanding the passion behind charity running, I feel I am a better person now than I was 10 weeks ago. I see people differently. And although I am gaining so much personally, for maybe the first time in my life, I feel completely selfless.

((5)) The Hoyts have reached an incredible amount of people in similar situations with their slogan, "Yes You Can."
Every time I see that slogan it is all in caps, and I think that it is that way for a reason. It should be loud and proud and used well after Dick and Rick decide that they have run their last race. So many families, such as mine, have found themselves saying, "Wow! I can't believe they are doing this. What can I do to help out?"
I think that little people like me will be able to spread their inspiring words and story forever.

((4)) This has inspired me to figure out what I want to do in the long-term of my life.
I've always wanted to help, but I wasn't sure how. I'm still figuring out the details of my grand plan, but I feel entirely at peace putting my personal needs aside to help someone else.
I think the Hoyt Foundation is a great start to what I feel will be an amazing life journey.

((3)) I believe I am creating an incredible story to tell my son.
If you know me, I'm all about telling a story... and a lengthy one at that. I thrive on details. I have a feeling that this 20-week experience is going to pave a lifetime of story and inspiration to guide my son to be an incredible friend and companion. You just can't make this stuff up. I think I'll make him proud.

((2)) I, with the help of the Hoyt's, will hopefully be inspiring others to make similar decisions in their life.
I don't mean that everyone needs to run a marathon to raise awareness for disabled people, but rather find what makes them helpful to their community or family or surroundings. Because if I can promise any advice to anyone, it's that joining hands with other people for a meaningful cause is a very powerful and uplifting experience. It's contagious in that I don't want to stop. I want to help Team Hoyt, my brother, the blind child down the street, the old man juggling his groceries to get to the car, my son when he can't figure out his buttons, my friend when she has man trouble, my mom when she's exhausted from babysittting, my friend who just had a baby, and anyone else who crosses my path. 

((1)) Ryan is living proof that a disability only holds you back as far as you let it.
This is a logic that just cannot be taught - it must be experienced. Pushing oneself comes with benefits. For Ryan, it was driving, buying his own home and owning the hell out of SoHo Tampa. For me, it will be a marathon; a marathon that will entirely benefit those who need that extra motivation to make their own life dreams happen. 

and the 0.1, which is the shortest part of a race, 

but oftentimes the most powerful and memorable part:

((0.1)) Our kids, our future.
Let's make way for unsheltered minds who don't judge and who treat others equally. May this kid and his friends not be afraid to stand up for what's right and love all shapes, size and colors.
Kindness will go a long way...

Join me in making a difference

A Lesson in Running

If anyone ever attempted to argue that running was easy

I would probably judo-chop their ass.

Today was hard.

Physically.

Mentally.

Hard.

I wasn't feeling top-notch, although I wasn't feeling bad enough to postpone.

Hal Higgy told me to run 9.

Uta advised runners that we should be at 11.

So I did what Kellyn always does: what I wanted.

I felt that I would satisfy Uta and impress Hal with a center 10-miler. 

I hadn't run 10 miles since my half marathon.

I didn't even run 10 miles during my training for the half.

Actually, I told people I did, but it was a complete lie. 

I only did 9.25.

So today's run started in pretty mild spirits: not too pumped, not too much dread:

I was wearing my new running skirt though,

so that helped the mood.

I am also seen wearing my most favorite bandana.

Clearly it has no luck value to it,

because by the time I reached mile 5

I had what I will call a "Runner's Crash."

I haven't any idea if that is a real term, 

or if this even happens to other runners,

but I had to walk. 

I've never walked on a run. 

Even at street lights or to let cars pass, I jog in place.

THIS WAS DEFEAT.

My body was all like, "Slow the hizzle down, girlfriend."

And then I remembered the great phrase:

It's not a sprint, it's a marathon.

SO, I allowed myself 2-1/2 minutes to walk

and I talked myself out of calling husband to pick me up at St. Charles and Audubon.

I regulated my breathing,

did a little strecheroo,

and thought of my brother, Rick and all the others unable to be running a 5th mile

and their LIFE marathons.

I strapped my water bottle thing-a-magig back on my hand,

powered on some Chamillionaire

and I was back in business. 

Now, as some of you are well aware,

the only hill in New Orleans looks like this:

So I've had to take on to parking garages to train.

I say that like I've already done it.

That is another lie.

Today was my first day of parking garages,

so this was a lovely surprise:

Good thing I wasn't jogging.

I was running that piece.

I had this whole plan in my head of the cops chasing me down

and me screaming, 

"Don't stop me, or you will be the reason that there is a heartbreak in Heartbreak Hill!!!"

The good thing about parking garages are this:

Am I not the only one who sees the holy light?

So two parking garages and 3 post miles later,

I arrived home.

I wanted to puke.

I could hardly bend my legs.

I could hardly straighten my legs.

I needed orange Gatorade.

I wanted a massage.

I longed for a nap.

I secretly hoped no one was home 

so I could lay face-first on a cool hardwood floor without being pegged by a Cheezit 

or a Thomas the Train tank engine.

After all of those feelings went away,

I felt awesome.

I immediately called my Dad 

because I've always felt the need to athletically impress him.

I called Husband to let him know that I was alive. 

And then I sat down to write this blog because I didn't want to lose my thoughts.

I wanted to remember this exact post on my next run

and any run to follow.

This isn't a sprint, it's a marathon.

I do not follow that in any way, shape or form in any aspect of my life,

but I feel so refreshed knowing that I can control that in a run.

I worked with my body today: I listened, I pushed, I held back and I learned. 

Somehow my worst-timed run became the most inspirational. 

Now, it's time for a celebratory beer.

Who's buying?