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.

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!

Change of Plans

Life is full of surprises. 

Some are good.

Some are bad.

Some include not having a job after your maternity leave. 

Say what?!

It's true. 

It's complicated. 

But it happened.

This is not a bad thing. 

I mean, what mother doesn't want to spend all day with her new baby, right?

This is not a good thing.

Um, money ring a bell?

However, it's a new twist in my life, 

and hell if I'm not going to make lemonade out of lemons.

On second thought, let's make that a Lemon Drop.

SO, one of the drawbacks to not returning to work is that I will have to complete nearly all of my training runs with my pint-sized sidekick. 

But on the upside, I can now go to the 5:45pm Boot Camp class and not wake up at 4:30am for the 5:30 class.

On the subject of training with my sidekick, 

I'm getting further into my training, 

which means that the runs are getting longer,

and she's not getting any lighter. 

I had someone comment to me the other day, "Isn't running with a stroller easier?"

The short answer is "No."

My answer is "You see that hill over there? Here is my stroller with the 30 lb carseat strapped to it, and a 10 lb baby in it. Now, go run up that hill while keeping your body upright. Then try running back down that hill at a steady pace. Oh yeah, you should do that about 10 more times. Aaaand I'm pretty sure I forgot to pump the tires. Then you tell me."

Upside to stroller training? 

My arms got pretty chubbytastic whilst pregnant. 

So this will quickly eliminate that issue.

The days also seem to not be getting any warmer. 

Now, the problem used to be that it took longer to get the babe bundled up than the actual run took. 

On what has become a "typical" 30-degree day,

my wardrobe includes running tights, long sleeve, windbreaker, scarf for breathing, two ear warmers, and gloves.

For my friend: footie flannel jammies, fleece baby bunting, hat, and four blankets strategically placed in stroller so that no wind touches skin.

Now that runs are getting longer, the time isn't much of a concern. 

HOWEVER, you have a newborn baby possibly exposed to the cold longer. 

This is where this bad boy came into play:

It has just occurred to me that I likely look like a homeless person with all that plastic,

but at least my little friend is warm and unscathed from the frosty elements.

So you see, there are some changes... but last I checked, change is good. 

Change is also challenging, and boy do I enjoy a challenge. 

So much so that I ran my 6-miler today in record stroller-pushing time. 

Nice try, world. Nothing's going to hold me back. 

BOSTON IN 82 DAYS!

Goodbye, 2013

You know how people can recall any year when referring to a certain situation?

Like, remember when Lucy broke her arm? It was 1974, and I got my first car....

Or, It was 1967 and we took our first vacation to the Grand Canyon.

???

Not me. It's impressive that I remember the year of my birth. 

I think that it's because my mind doesn't see things in black and white. 

More like colors and shapes. 

All of that changed in 2013. 

What I experienced with my brother's passing was very black and white. 

The phone call. 

The conversation with my dad. 

The flight home. 

The wake. 

The funeral. 

It plays through my mind like a broken record, which surprisingly hasn't stopped playing. 

Dont' get my wrong. There were incredible moments in 2013, too. 

I was awarded Top 40 Under 40 in Memphis. 

I ran like a champ 7 months into my pregnancy. 

I birthed a baby the exact way that I wanted to. 

I watched my toddler bloom into an incredibly imaginative boy.

All of these are noteworthy, 

but chances are I won't remember that they happened in 2013. 

(And don't think that my child's birth counts - I mix up Gray's birth year AND day all the time. Not kidding.)

My personality is fueled with optimism, and I know it will get it back. 

2014 is going to be my year. 

A year dedicated to the betterment of the lives around me, which will in turn better my own. 

2014 will be a year of dedication. 

I'm not sure how or why I haven't been able to fundraise quite like I did two years ago, but I will dedicate myself to finding the remedy. Disability awareness is so important to me, and I'll see to it that people become aware and join me.

2014 will be a year of motivation. 

I can't think of any more motivating event than that of training for a marathon. The amount of people who have called my running an inspiration to begin themselves is overwhelming. 

I love it and hope I can reach more people.

2014 will be a year of loving. 

Is there anything more contagious?

2014 will be a year of celebrating my brother's life, and not mourning it. 

Each mile I run will absolutely involve thinking about him and the life he lived. But from now on, the focus will be how I can take the lessons I learned from him on strength and persistence and pass them onto others. 

Yes, 2014 will be a good year. 

Click Here to Donate! 

(I promise it will make you feel like a million bucks.)

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...