Just Keep Running: Step By Step Across Maine

5 Minute Read, 2 Minute Video

After rowing solo across the Atlantic Ocean, it seemed impossible to find another endurance challenge that could match those 1 million oar-strokes that were taken in between Africa and South America. How can you compare a 70-day experience with a 30+ hour run? 

It’s difficult to compare such different journeys but I do know that I felt more physically depleted during the 137.8-mile run across Maine than during any of the 70-days rowing the Atlantic. Had the run route been 1 mile longer and I might have been crawling to the finish!

The run was fun. Until, it wasn’t. 

It got fun again. And then, it wasn’t again.

And then, I was on the side of the road ripping and throwing grass like a crazy person. I hit a low unlike any I had before, and with only 5 miles until the finish.

But, let’s start from the beginning. Maine is a beautiful state for a run. Running across it meant that I was engulfed by thick green forests & mountains, keeping me feeling inspired along the way. It was incredibly remote without a stop sign or stoplight until well over 100 miles into the journey. 

The very first 20 miles were so remote that there was no cell reception, with more moose than humans. A series of interconnected ponds dotted the route called the Chain of Ponds, all serene and unique to the next. Wondering what I might see around the next curve in the road or beyond the next climb kept me going. 

Around mile 40 I hit my first “wall” going through Sugarloaf Mountain in the Carrabassett Valley. Before the thought could even grow about how big this challenge truly was, I had Danielle and Jason from Starting Line Maine find me just to cheer me on. This was no small feat. Danielle had busted her jaw from a cycling accident – (stitches & everything!) – and she and her husband still made that effort to cheer me on my way. 

The first half of the run went by like clockwork. I was trucking along without too many setbacks or reasons to stop aside from a roadside stop to get the blood moving back up from my ankles,

The “real run” began once the sun set. This is when anything, and everything can happen. The blisters, the chaffing, the sore….everything. Kathleen, my dear friend and running buddy from Portland, joined me as I was reaching the 90-mile mark. The fatigue was really starting to set in. Something as simple as running in a straight line was something that took focus and effort. 

Surprises continued to bring energy to the journey, with new friends & pacers making the sacrifice to drive hours away to meet on those lonely dark roads and help pass the miles. Somewhere around mile 110 is when I had my first hallucination, thinking that a cheetah was peering out at me from the woods. Quite possibly the biggest surprise was when I was my Uncle Pat from Ohio. Like the cheetah, I thought I was hallucinating. This. Was. Real!

By 11AM on Sunday morning I was an hour away from the finish with 5 miles to go. I felt done. The music no longer lifted my spirits. The caffeine and endorphins could no longer masked the unbearable throbbing in my ankles. The scenery that kept me feeling energized and rejuvenated in the beginning of the journey, now seemed like a trap of endless dark forest that I could never escape. The miles could not pass soon enough and the road felt like it was becoming longer. I was aware of every ache and pain that I had been trying to block out.

It was then that I officially entered the biggest meltdown in endurance challenges after over a decade of them. If you were a fly on a wall, here’s what you’d see: I am crying and shouting nonsense in sheer exhaustion and delirium. Words and tears are not enough for me to express my frustration. That’s when instead of running, I am ripping grass with my bare hands and throwing it to the wind like a crazy person.  

I wanted to find my limit.My mind and body had found it at mile 132.

My dear friend, Arabelle, is front-row witness to my meltdown. She was with me from the very start, driving alongside during the entire journey as my one-person support crew, meeting up with me every 5 miles. She made sure that I had the fuel to keep me going, and took care of my every need even if that meant popping blisters and borrowing her lucky run socks. Arabelle was there long before the start. She was there when my head was clouded with fears and doubts that I was taking on more than my mind and body could handle to attempt this feat. I knew, no matter what she would be there. 

Arabelle patiently waits for her moment to intervene. I saw the problem, she offered a solution. She is a living example that “Shared joy is a double joy; shared sorrow is half sorrow.”

She would run with me. 

In those first few steps she is running with me, she is sharing her own meltdown moments like mine. The miles got easier and I am once again surprised when a pack of runners & friends from church join the run. Suddenly, I am feeling like a real-life Forrest Gump and I have several dozen runners to take those final few miles of the 137.8-mile journey, with even more joining by vehicle to cheer me on until reaching the final step. The final stretch is before me, and was all downhill to Porter’s Landing, a small launch area and public water access point with a rickety pier leading to the ocean. 

The pier is in front of me and my shoes, sunnies, and hat are thrown off as soon as my first foot touches the pier. I wonder if this is a good idea, but the excitement is too strong, and with Arabelle by my side, there is only one thing left to do. 

JUMP!

We are joined by others and the excitement was alive in all of us. 

LOOK how far we can go!

LOOK how far faith can take us! 

LOOK how many people can get clean water!

So many reasons to be grateful, walking away from one adventure and moving on to the next. But before running ahead of myself, thanks.

You reading this very blog is deserving of some thanks. Thanks to everyone who joined me virtually & in person to make this possible & fun. Thanks for following my journey and believing in me and the cause I ran for. And praise God for giving me the strength to continue on, and protecting my every step. 

You don’t have to run across Maine to realize it, but you. Yes, you. Can do big things. 

Why Solitude Makes a Good Friend

3 minute read

It is New Years Eve of 2018 and I’m sitting on a zafu in a dimly light meditation hall. My new home is the Manresa Jesuit Retreat House in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan. It was built to help people grow in their spiritual life by offering group & individual retreats. I am just one of many guests who have come through it’s doors and for the next ten-days I will do something even more difficult than the endurance challenges I so willingly throw myself into.

Instead of movement, I will be still. Really, really still. Like, so still I can’t scratch an itch or move my leg when it starts to fall asleep. Like, if this was a sport, I’d be earning my black belt in solitude. For the next ten-days I adhere to “noble silence”. There will be no reading or writing, no phone calls or internet, no exercise or movement. No words spoken and eye-contact made to other guests. Just me & my zafu for 12 hours a day in silence. By myself. With myself.

Why would someone want to do that to themselves?

Because I have been there before – in 2010 rowing solo across the Atlantic – with no follow boat or outside assistance for a total of 70 days alone at sea, I am familiar with what can happen in solitude. What can be labeled as social isolation, also considered the cruelest form of punishment, can be something else. Something greater. Something that can lead to a life filled with more meaning and purpose.

If there is one silver-lining to COVID-19, it would be the opportunity to reconnect with yourself. To make friends with the pause and carry from it lessons into the future.   Perhaps now, as we being to re-engage with our world once again with businesses re-opening and travel restrictions being lifted, is the time to look back at how time with yourself is valuable.

Here are some of the benefits I have discovered by spending time with myself:

Room for creative energy & innovation

If anyone says, “I feel bored”, tell them “that is GREAT!” Often times the most creative ideas come after periods of boredom or stagnation. As someone who loves crafting, I usually find I have energy after times of this open space. After-all, it’s much easier to paint on a blank canvas than one that is already full. 

Room to be a sponge.

Soak in new books. Soak in interesting podcasts. Soak in thought-provoking documentaries. Be a sponge to the infinite possibilities to learn and expand your knowledge. You can soak it all up, or you can let it all out by writing, setting goals & intentions, reflecting, and listening to that little voice inside that can be hard to hear with so many distraction and so much noise. We might be called to do something but we might not sit still long enough to hear what that voice is saying.  

Room for deeper relationships.

Every day we engage in interactions with one another, whether it be at work or simply running errands. When these interactions are no longer automatic, they become more intentional. You have the ability to choose how you invest in your relationships. You can develop even more gratitude for those relationships when unable to freely engage.  

Empty space can actually make room to uncover and discover more. One of the greatest lesson I have learned from spending time with myself isrecognizing how truly connected we are.Even in the middle of an ocean, thousands of miles away from other human beings, I felt connected when visited by the dolphins, dorados, tea turtles and sharks. Or it could be when seeing an airplane cross the sky above me. Just knowing that every morning we all would be sharing the same sunshine and every night we would be looking at the same stars made me feel connected during one of the most isolating times of my life.    

I hope you, too, have appreciated how we are all but a moment and a memory away from those we dearly cherish and love. Nothing can take away from the interconnectedness we all share as fellow human and journeyer’s in this thing called life.

You are truly never alone.

Remembering My Pal on Mother’s Day

5 minute read

Mother’s Day is a day to honor, celebrate and appreciate the influence mothers have had in society and in our daily lives. A year never passes without spending time to reflecting on the impact one woman has made on me. She always lived up to her name and that name is Pal.  

Who is Pal?

Pal was a wonderful combination of warmth and kindness, laughter and love.  Most people would give their grandmother the nickname “Nana” or “Gram”.  “Pal” just felt better to us.  Her nickname came about because she had the tendency to call out “where’s my little pal” in the most endearing way when she was looking for me and my two brothers.

Pal was the reason Sundays could not come soon enough.  Us siblings would spend the entire day with her and my grandpa in their cute, little bungalow with a white picket fence.  My grandma and I would occasionally retreat away from the boys and spend time painting our nails, braiding my hair or getting crafty with paper garland chains.  She always had my most favorite snacks ready and knew how to make my sandwich just the right way.  I don’t know how many times my parents had to deal the request to make lunch “the way Pal does”. There were so many things she did that only her way was the way I wanted it to be. This still holds true to this day. 

Pal Living Up to Her Name

One of my fondest memories with Pal was a day of shopping at Great Lakes Mall. The trip was so special because I grew up in a lot of hand-me-downs from my brothers and second-hand finds from garage sales and thrift stores.  I felt like I hit the jackpot getting something brand new and straight from the mall.

As Pal and I journeyed through the stores together, her joy and excitement matched my own, marveling at all the trinkets and treasures. I learned what it felt like to be spoiled as the shopping bags started to grow and every request was met with a smile and a nod by Pal. Blazin’ blueberry roll-on glimmer and cucumber melon body lotion from Bath and Body Works?  Smile and nod.  A yin yang necklace from Claires? Smile and nod. Every form of sugar imaginable from the Sweet Factory? Smile and nod.  The bags got so big I started to develop triceps muscles at a very young age.

I was on a roll until I saw this country-style doll wearing a sunflower dress, with braided amber hair and holding a pot with a petite sunflower poking out.  I saw big numbers on her price tag and tried to contain my excitement.  I didn’t have a great concept of money but I knew she was too much to ask for.  We left the mall with bags weighing a little less than I really wanted them to. 

When Pal was dropping me off from our day at the mall and I collected my bags, she gave me a warm smile and said, “there’s one more”. And there she was - the doll was delicately wrapped in a big box full of cinnamon-smelling tissue paper.  Pal never failed to make me feel so loved and so special.  

Learning about Sacrifice

Pal taught me the power of sacrifice with an act she did before I was born.  Pal was a long-time smoker and started the habit during a time when cigarettes were advertised as a healthy product. Pal’s doctor warned her that her lungs were deteriorating and that she would not have much time left if she continued smoking. She made the decision to give up smoking the day I was born because she wanted to have more time with her family and with her first granddaughter. Because of Pal’s sacrifice and commitment to her family, we were able to share a childhood of great memories together.  

Her health started to deteriorate when I was in high school.  I helplessly watched the woman I love dearly lose the vigor she once had as she became dependent on an oxygen tank. Pal eventually died after years of battling with lung disease on March 22, 2004. She was 71 and passed away a decade sooner than the average American woman.

Pal’s Legacy Lives On

Pal never got to witness how far her love has taken me and how big my dreams grew because of the courage she instilled in me.   After my first marathon in high school, I was looking for a new adventure. Google led me to The Big Ride Across America - a 3,300-mile bicycle ride from Seattle, Washington to Washington D.C.  This wasn’t just a bike ride.  It was way to raise funds for the American Lung Association and help others from struggling with lung disease.  Pal was the reason behind every peddle.  She was the reason for every mile I pushed through.  Pal was the reason thousands of dollars were raised to help others dealing with lung disease.

I know Pal is still with me and I feel her presence strongest during endurance events.  When my body is weak, my spirit is strong because of her. The longing I have for Pal will never go away but she left me with the reassurance that she is always near in heart. Faith keeps me connected to her and she is there in spirit in every mile I take.