I gave 110%, and so did you!

We did it! On Sunday, June 9th, I completed the Steamboat Springs 1/2 Marathon in 3 hours and 51 minutes. Around the same time, my fundraising total for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society hit $2,761 -- 110% of my original $2,500 goal.

I can't begin to express my gratitude for your support as I worked to accomplish this huge (and somewhat uncharacteristic) goal. There is no question that your help and encouragement got me to the finish line. And I have to tell you -- I was not the fastest, sleekest, or most accomplished athlete in the event, but I was definitely the most enthusiastic and cheerful! I knew I already had won, even before they fired the starting gun. You see, thanks to you and many other generous folks, the Rocky Mountain Chapter of Team In Training raised more that $110,000 dollars for the Spring season. That means lives were saved, research was funded, families and friends were assisted - even before I took my first step.

The race itself was surprisingly fun. We had a pep talk in the hotel lobby, then got on a bus and rode to the starting line before dawn. Everyone on the bus kept remarking about how long it was taking to get there, as we all slowly realized how very, very far we were going to walk or run. Aside from an absurd number of porta-potties, the starting line was fairly non-descript, and the air was cold until the sun came up. There was a one-hour delay due to some transportation issues, but as soon as we got underway I became aware of just how beautiful the scenery was. Being a (slow) walker, I had the road essentially to myself, and I was able to enjoy the sound of a distant river, at least three different kinds of songbirds, the reassuring crunch of gravel as I toodled down the road, and the sight of gamboling calves running circles around their more sedate dams. The locals were fabulous, setting up cheering stations along the way and offering just as much enthusiasm to me as they had the speedsters at the head of the pack. One pair of water-hander-outers were about six years old, and I had to turn them around as they ran up the course behind me, away from their grown-ups. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and I had a spring in my step for quite a ways after I left them behind.

I made good time, even running a few sections, and despite the heat (an uncharacteristic 90 degrees under cloudless skies and relentless sun) felt good for most of the race. I was able to cheer on other Team In Training folks as the full-marathoners began passing me, and I did my best to offer encouragement to all the runners who were faltering. Karma came full circle around mile 11, when I hit my own personal wall and the cheer stations boosted me. That and a little Lady GaGa and other hard-rocking tunes on the iPod. I have to say, mile 12 was pretty much the hardest mile I've ever walked.

When I finally reached town, I was delighted to see my mom and dad, who gave up their day to come cheer me on and brought me to tears with their proud smiles. Finally, I crossed the finish line, received my medal, and got a great hug from Anita, who had sucessfully completed her 10K hours earlier. After some stretching and cold water, we all celebrated with fried pickles and sandwiches at a nearby restaurant (don't knock the pickles -- I've never tasted such salty fried deliciousness in my life!) and Anita and I headed back to the hotel for a much needed nap. When I woke I was pleased to find that I was only mildly sore, and filled with a sense of accomplishment and pride I seldom reach.

pictures are available on Flickr at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/ikreske/

So, we did it, and we did it well. Thank you.

Who's up for a full marathon?

Gratefully,

Yanna

So grateful

I'm humbled to the point of tears. Donations to my Team In Training account are currently at $2,635. Thank you.

http://pages.teamintraining.org/rm/SteamBt10/ikreske

19 days

Hello! Just writing a quick update on my progress for Team In Training. This has been an incredible week for me! I have fewer than three weeks until the half-marathon in Steamboat, and I have to admit that for a while I've been beset by doubts about accomplishing either the fundraising or walking a half-marathon.

Fortunately, last week I received a very generous anonymous donation which pushed the fundraising past the minimum, and the proceeds from the jewelry trunk show I hosted brought me even closer to my personal goal. That has been a huge relief, although I still have $363 to raise. On the physical side, we just had our longest training day of the season; now we rest up for the race. In order to accommodate some family plans I hit the trail early with some other walkers, and boy did we burn up the trail! In just 3.5 hours I walked 11 (yes, eleven!) miles. I stopped there, but I proved to myself that I can -- and will -- complete 13.1 miles and cross the finish line on June 6th with few problems.

I'm still a little sore today, which probably could be addressed by drinking more water the day of the race, stretching better, and not digging up and moving hundred pound rocks for several hours afterward (the aforementioned family obligation). And in reality, what are a couple of blisters and a sore hamstring compared to rounds of chemotherapy, radiation, and surgeries to fight cancer? Because that's what this really is about. I'm proud to have been a small part in the effort to fight and cure blood cancers. I'm also tremendously grateful to those of you who have supported me - emotionally, physically, even financially -- through this journey.

19 days 'til the race! I'll post pictures and updates on my Team In Training blog if you want to follow my progress or to make a donation.

http://pages.teamintraining.org/rm/SteamBt10/ikreske

I'm a morning person

Much to my night-owl husband's dismay, I'm a morning person. And not just a morning person -- I like to be up when everyone else is sleeping.  There's something about a sleeping house that is remarkably peaceful. Since getting the alarm clock, er, dog, I've expanded to enjoying a sleeping city. This morning, no thanks to the time change, we walked again in the dark. At long last we were accompanied by the scolding of robins and crows who were unaccustomed to our company. I was delighted; robins are the first sign of spring, and their song cheers me like nothing else.  In addition, we witnessed garbage trucks trolling the alleys -- a sight that thrills me now that I have children who get excited by heavy machinery -- and groggy bathrobe-clad people taking the recycling bins to the curb.  My personal symphony also included the rumble of freight trains announcing in long wails their arrival and departure through the rail yard.  Sometimes I am privileged to hear the roar of lions or trumpeting of elephants from the zoo near our home.  Today I did not, but as soon as I returned home I was treated to the cacophany of a waking family.

Walking after dark

We have a new dog. This is an exciting development in our household, although Teddy has fit in so well as to make her arrival almost a non-event, except that the back yard fence is finally being rebuilt (to my great pleasure). I tell you only because I now find myself walking the neighborhood at a time of night when I in the past allowed myself to lapse into the doldrums of television.


Evening walks are a sensory experience. Without the definition of daylight, my relationship with my environment becomes much more tactile - previously duck-able branches and leaves part my hair as I forge through them; I cannot time my passage through the sprinkler; plants easily identified in the morning are instead appreciated solely for their scent, thrown across the grass by ungainly dog and leash. Streetlights throw japanese leaf prints on the sidewalk, dappled art disrupted but undisturbed by my passage. I find myself lost just yards from home, disoriented by unfamiliar landscaping. Fortunately Teddy guides me, lurching against her lead, home.