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. 

Moving Forward When Your Feelings Disagree

2 minute read

You set a new goal. Maybe it was a running race. So you signed up for the race. Found your run group. Bought the gear. Found the plan. Then, the race got cancelled so you decided to keep running and working towards your goal. All the pieces of the puzzle were right in front of you. Except for one. 

You don’t feel like it. 

Maybe that feeling you once had no longer exists for you. Instead you’re thinking of the million other things you have going on or you’re thinking how you’d rather do something else. Your mind begins to wander and you wonder why you made such a Big Stupid Mistake to set this goal. You ever-so-slowly begin to tiptoe backwards hoping nobody notices and thinking of all the reasons to justify the reasons you gave up. Maybe next year. 

What is missing from this picture when all the pieces are right in front of you? Something happens so quickly that we (myself included!) forget there is something that stands in between feeling and action.

That, my dear is CHOICE. 

Well, what choice do you have but to quit when you don’t feel like continuing on? This is “it” for me as an endurance athlete. It is moments facing doubts that you become stronger by overcoming them. The greatest discovery as an endurance athlete is that by accepting weakness we can find greater strength. 

What does that even mean? And what does that look like to accept weakness? 

It looks like this: instead of being “defeated” by those hard *feels* you…

1. IGNORE them. 

   //OR//

2. LISTEN to them, then don’t give them any power.

You say, “I understand, I get you”. When intentionally going out of your way to self-impose a difficult circumstance, guess what? There will be times you might feel like giving up.It is not a personal failure, but an expectation to meet these moments along the journey.  It doesn’t mean that you are weak, but that this is difficult.

When doubts are seen as “part of the process” rather than “part of the end”, that is how you can keep going despite doubt, and invite those fears to come along for the journey. 

As I continue training for Run4Water, my attempt to run 130-miles nonstop across Maine this Labor Day, I have all the *feels* leading up it, but mostly excitement. THIS FRIDAY I will be attempting to run 73-mile nonstop run across Vermont becoming the first woman to do it. You’ll be able to follow along with a satellite SPOT tracker for the anticipated 14-hour journey with links on social media. Excited to share the journey with you!

Running is a Matter of Faith

1 minute read, 8 minute video

It was a summer night and I was spending it with a dear friend, Megan, at the Cleveland Museum of Natural History. We were strolling through exhibits the same way you might leisurely leaf through a magazine until Lucy fossil caught our eye. We dive right into one of my all-time favorite question: “What do you think?”. 

The truth was, I had no clue but leaned into my own inclination to think “sure, anything is possible”. Little did I know how much the conversation would have on my understanding of who God is, versus the one I knew growing up. Megan shared her Christian faith and how it is much more than religion or a set of beliefs used to worship God, but a relationship.

Boy, did I have some questions! 

My curiosity was awakened, similar to how I felt the first time I learned about ocean rowing — I just had to learn more. 

Books were read. 

Sermons were watched. 

Questions were answered.

The undeniable pull I felt couldn’t be stopped, and acceptance and belief came into my heart.

I believe! 

What does that really mean?

I am constantly learning what it means to put God first in all things. But with endurance, it has been truly transformational. Before accepting Jesus, my worth came from the world and now my worth is rooted in something much deeper than the world can offer — a belief in God. The endurance adventures continue on, only this time with joy rather than fear, eagerness rather than anxiety, and out of love rather needing to prove lovability.

To learn more about my journey from doubter to believer, here is a video from my local church, Eastpoint Church.