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:

Meet the "Mayor" of SoHo

In some very recent and exciting news,

Ryan was featured in his neighborhood's newspaper,

South Tampa Community News.

After practically begging the world of Facebook to scan me a copy,

I finally got my Dad to snag one while in the 'hood today

and I just read it for the first time.

I am so very proud of this article. 

Ryan is a big staple in his community,

and I couldn't have been more pleased with the community's appreciation.

The publisher of this paper was Bill Sharpe, 

also known as SoHo Bill.

I say was because Bill died very tragically the day this article was released.

Bill was a great friend of Ryan's,

and he told me how much he loved Ryan as a friend when I spoke to him just 3 months ago.

I wanted to take a minute of this post to tell you all of this

because Bill Sharpe is also responible for giving the homeless of Tampa employment.

Please pick up a copy of Tampa Epoch when you see it on the side of the road.

You'll not only be helping the homeless earn an honest living,

but also honoring someone who gave character and devotion to the city. 

Thanks, Bill, for being such a good friend to Ryan and to Tampa Bay.

You will be missed.

Ladies and gentlemen,

Here is the article:

Meet Ryan - The "Mayor" of SoHo
by Amy Lassiter


When I walked into MacDinton's to meet with Ryan Shuck recently, I knew instantly that I had met a new friend. His kind eyes and infectious smile greeted me, and as we ordered our drink and went to our table, every one there stopped to say hello. Later, Ryan boasted that he has checked into MacDinton's 44 times in two months on his favorite application called "Foursquare." With so many "check-ins" at his favorite establishment and so many greetings sent his way, it didn't take me long to understand why Ryan has been crowned "The Mayor" of SoHo; he is a friend to all.


In addition to socializing, Ryan enjoys tech gadgets, is an avid sports fan, dabbles in a bit of sales, works out twice a week, and spends time volunteering at the Ronald McDonald House. Amazing feats for this 30 year old who 28 years ago, when he was 18 months old, was in an automobile accident with his parents. Left with a permanent disability, Ryan endured nearly 30 surgeries and spent a good amount of his formative high school years in a body cast.


Not to be deterred, Ryan did his best to stay as involved as he could in sports. He went to every football and basketball game and became the basketball stats recorder. He played in a challenger baseball league, learned to drive with one hand and one foot, graduated high school and went on to obtain a bachelor's degree from University of Tampa in Sports Management.


Ryan's sister, Kellyn Gowen, recently wrote to tell us that she will be running this April's 116th Boston Marathon with Team Hoyt in honor of her brother. Team Hoyt is father/son team - Dick (72) has pushed his son Rick (50) in more than 1,000 races over the past 30 years. Rick is a quadriplegic with cerebral palsy and Ryan has a similar diagnosis. According to Kellyn, "Ryan has overcome incredible obstacles, and he is my hero. This race just so happens to coincide with the 29th anniversary of his accident."


"This is a really important cause to me, and even though my brother has been rather bashful during this whole fundraising campaign, I want him to know how much he has inspired others, including myself. My main goal of the run is the raise awareness for the disabled children, so that they can have the greatest of opportunities in their sometimes-restricting lives. I think that they should have the incredible opportunities and encouragement that my brother was fortunate enough to have. I additionally want able-bodied people to have a greater understanding of these conditions and to perhaps show a little more compassion."


When I asked Ryan what he thought about his sister's endeavor he confided that he is a bit embarrassed about the publicity directed towards him, but that he is "extremely proud" of Kellyn. He is looking forward to traveling to Boston for the first time with some family members, to seeing Kellyn cross the finish line, and to attending a Red Sox and Rays baseball game.


To support Ryan and Kellyn and donate to the Team Hoyt marathon team, visit: www.crowdrise.com/runningforryan

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:

Hopping to Hopkington

Hello friends! 

Long time, no post.

In my defense, I've been running 20-milers up in here...

it leaves little room or desire to do anything other than treat myself to cheese fries and beer.

And that sadly leaves writing blogs in the little-desire department.

But I'm back and glad to report that I did make it 20 miles in Dallas,

regardless of infinite traffic, construction and hills. 

Spring is here!

And that means Easter is, too. 

Easter means different things to different people:

Some see it as a religious celebration...

Some perhaps are just happy that Lent is over...

Others are pleased that they have an excuse to eat Reese's Easter Eggs all day...

For my mother, it was a day to start spring cleaning

(which I once protested and  locked myself in my room to wholly celebrate Easter with my basket alone)

And for many of my friends, 

it's going to be a super fun holiday playing Easter Bunny for their sweet little chicks.

I can think of no other way to celebrate Easter,

than to make all those sweet chicks something to dye those eggs in.

Aprons, of course!

For the little chickens:

(Plenty of fabric for these... $10)

And the Mother Hens:

(Only two of these left! $15)

I have selected fabric left, 

so if you would like an apron get your order in quickly!!

Email: kellyn.gowen@gmail.com

I am currently only doing half aprons.

Child - $10

Regular Half - $15

Cinched Waist Half - $20 (my favorite)

So help me hop to Hopkington, folks!
Or I'll send this tag team to get you...

1 Month Countdown

In exactly 1 month and 1 hour,

I will be in Athlete's Village lining up with my corral to run the biggest race of my life, 

and more than likely concentrating on not wetting my compression pants.

What's so incredible to me

is that it will be the biggest race of everyone else's life as well. 

So all of these walks of life who are all running for different reasons,

will be cuddled up under some tent or lined up at some porta-potty,

sharing the exact same chill as everyone else:

I'm about to run a marathon.

So this will be my first,

and the person next to me may be on their 20th,

but running 26.2 miles isn't exactly natural.

We will all be pushing  our bodies to unnatural and powerful limits.

Whether someone's pace is 6 minutes or 15 minutes,

we all have the common goal of finishing, and finishing well.

At that point we put the 400+ miles it took to get to this point in our back pockets

and give this incredible trot our best. 

We'll set out past the start

and we won't stop pushing our bodies and minds until the finish. 

I can't tell you how excited/nervous/scared I am.

But I can tell you how proud I am to have gotten to this point.

A few months ago I could hardly run 3 miles without huffing and puffing.

I wouldn't even look ahead in my training because it would scare me.

Tomorrow, I set out for a 20-miler,

and I'm excited about it. 

20 miles is the furthest I'm set to go in my training.

So this means that if I can do it, 

Hal Higdon thinks I'm ready to run a marathon. 

And to me,

that is huge. 

So Hal,

I will make you proud tomorrow,

and most importantly,

I'll make me proud.

May the luck of the Irish be with me tomorrow! 

Regardless, I know how I'll be celebrating: