Hair of the Dog 10 Miler – “Race Recap”

Also known as the race that didn’t happen.

After my experience last year I was sure that I would run this race every year, make it a holiday habit like the TreesGreenville Turkey Day 8k. After this year’s experience, I scour race listings to find another race with which to kick off the new year.

Like last year, runners could register on two different platforms, the YMCA’s internal platform and racemine. Since I am not a member of the YMCA of Greater Spartanburg, I registered us through racemine. Nothing seemed different from last year so I expected a repeat.

The weather threw us a curveball with a below freezing temperature but at least no rain accompanied us. We arrived around the same time, 8:10 and headed in to get our bibs and shirts.

This is where things got interesting. As we stood in line, I overheard another runner asking about bibs. I could not hear all of the volunteer’s answers but heard something about there not being any bibs this year. What?

Sure enough…we stepped up to the table and after they finally found us on the separate list and asked if we had paid yet – again, what? – they handed us our bags. I stepped off to the side, opened the bag and found a shirt and several slips of paper including one with “directions” printed on it. No bibs.

I stepped back over to the packet pick up table and asked about it. The volunteer told me that since it’s just a fun run, they did not have any bibs this year. They had a clock at the finish line but no official timing.

Seriously? A fun run? We had bibs last year. Nothing in any of their materials indicated that this was just a fun run. Even if it was a fun run, how could you possibly tell which people actually registered and paid for the materials if you did not also give them a bib to wear?

Okay fine. We would run the race and not get a bib. We had come all the way out to Spartanburg after all.

As we sat inside and waited, I thought about that paper with “directions” on it. Those “directions” consisted of one or two words – street names I assume – and directional arrows. I am not from Spartanburg or in any way familiar with any of those directions. Plus, who takes those sorts of directions with them out on a run? The paper would blow out of my hand in seconds.

I checked again with one of the volunteers manning the pick up table who assured me that the course had been marked. The race director placed those directions in there just in case because several people last year had issues. (If you read my recap from last year, those issues were caused by a volunteer telling people to run the wrong way, not an improperly marked course.)


While reassured that the course was in fact marked, I already had lost my desire to run this “race.” I asked Mom if she would rather run the 5 miler instead of the 10 miler. After all, we didn’t have bibs so would know the difference? They were the same price too. She was game.

Around 8:40 with 20 minutes still left before race start we saw a huge group head away from the building. Okay…why? Should we go? I had no desire to miss the start like we almost did last year. Then we wondered if that group of people headed out for the one miler or something. Unsure, we found another volunteer and asked where the start was.

Her answer erased any remaining confidence we had in the race. She mentioned two different locations that it could possibly be, that they kept changing their minds and advised use to wait until this group headed out.


We decided to cut our losses ($30) and head home. If we wanted to run a “fun run,” we would run it back home where we knew where we were going and wouldn’t get lost.

I will admit to extreme disappointment that the “race” devolved like this. Unfortunately, I have to put that $30 in the sunk cost column and keep moving forward.

I came home and ran 6.5 miles at home in the extremely chilly weather at an 8:33 average pace which felt easy! I’ll take that any day.

The Book Project

Back in spring of this year, I embarked on a project that has taken me months to complete. That project? Downsizing my book collection.

Anyone that knows me would have a hard time figuring out why I embarked on such a project. After all, I am the girl who routinely received stacks of books for birthdays and Christmas. I am also the girl who frequently proclaimed that I was a minimalist in everything except for coffee mugs and books. I sold over half my mugs in April. It was time to look at the books.

One late spring weekend, I jumped off the fence, made the decision. I may take a while to become ready but once I actually choose, I waste no time. I started taking books off the shelf and stacked them on the floor by my two largest bookshelves.

The project worked as follows First, all books I had purchased or received as gifts within the last year stayed in my collection. I began curating my collection with increased vigor around that time. Second, all of my classics, history books, and books in Spanish stayed. I know the value of all of those. Third, a handful of other books stayed on the shelves like everything by Tolkein and Lewis. Fourth, I would read each book in the series and be willing to part with some of a series but not all. (I am just a tad OCD). Fifth, if I did not love a book, regardless of quality, I would set it aside to donate.

With these parameters in mind, I set to work on what I termed the second round of the purge from personal collection. Yes, I did this once before, four years ago. I purged more than five large reusable bags full of books then. By the time May 2017 rolled around my collection surpassed 600 in number. Even though I eliminated many books from my collection in the first round, I approached this round with increased vigor.

Surprisingly, almost every book I reread during that first month ended up back on my shelf. I started to wonder whether I was being harsh enough in my evaluation and even sometimes if I was wasting my reading time since so many of these books found their way back into my collection.

As the weeks progressed, the stacks on the floor grew smaller while the stacks on or under the bench, the donation spot, grew larger. I relocated a couple stacks of children and young adult books to my classroom when the new school year started. I had held onto these books for that “someday” of having a library in my own house for future children. It took years but I was finally ready to relinquish my hold on that “what if” and put the books to actual use. Sometimes the stacks decreased slowly. Other times I cut them in half by donating an entire series. Why waste time on lackluster prose when the first book is so terrible you find yourself questioning the judgment of your past self.

As I write this entry, one tiny stack of four books remain, the last four books in the O’Malley series by Dee Henderson. Of the three bookshelves I cleared (and one shelf from my large book case) only one is filled to capacity again. One stands completely empty. The third holds barely more than one shelf’s worth. I did not count the books as I donated them. If I had to guess, I would estimate that I have donated around two hundred books. I did not read all of them; my total for 2017 stands right now at a mere 163. (Of course, that is stated with the upmost irony.) That rough estimate includes the couple stacks now inhabiting my classroom library as well as other extended series donated after a disappointing reread of the first book.

At the end of the year, while I have lost the status of owning over 600 books, I have gained so much more. At many times in my life I valued my books too much; I valued my goals too much. This process helped me gain a better perspective on what’s really important.

It also reignited my love of reading, which is always nice.

Hilton Head Jingle Jingle 5k 2017 – Race Recap

Race #139
5k #48
2017 Race #21
2017 5k #5
Hilton Head Jingle Jingle 5k #3

Like I mentioned last year, I planned and executed a dedicated training plan for this race in the hopes that I would make my 5k PR not so much of an anomaly and try to PR. This course could not be better suited for a fast 5k.

A month ago, I “practiced” racing a short race with the TreesGreenville Turkey Day 8k and quickly learned that I need to focus on mental stamina. That came into play in this race.

We arrived with just a little bit longer to wait before the race than I prefer but got settled in and walked over to the new starting location. I saw few people dressed like they intended to race; many people came decked out in all sorts of fantastic holiday costumes like an Elf movie onsie. (That might have been my favorite.)

Hilton Head Jingle Jingle 5k 2017
No Elf onsie in view…just me, almost ready to start

Several times as we lined up, the race director specifically addressed the kids lined up at the front and told them to get back from the front. Some kids took a few steps back but not many. One happened to be standing near me. I smiled and asked her if she could run a mile in 6 minutes, what the race director had just stated. She smiled, shook her head and then tried to get her friend to move back with her.

Hilton Head Jingle Jingle 5k 2017
They moved back … but not that far.

With only a two minute delay, we were off.

Right away I knew that I my 5k racing skills are rusty at best. I knew I took off way too fast but it has been a long time since I have even attempted to hold a 6:50 mile when not on the treadmill. I glanced at my Garmin a few times but the numbers I saw still needed time to adjust. The pace felt fast and I wondered if I would be able to hold on to it.

After about a quarter mile my Garmin had settled down and I saw low 6 numbers as well as one 5:50. No way. I had to slow down or I would crash and burn at the end.

I slowed down a little but the damage had already been done.

Mile 1: 6:33 Way. Too. Fast.

I could feel the pace in the second mile. I could also hear those doubts creep into my mind, the same doubts that led me to walk at the 8k last month. Everything felt so hard but I managed to pass a girl that I had been trailing for a mile. I did not look behind me for the rest of the race but I knew she lurked just behind me.

At various points in the mile I could feel the pace slipping. I kept trying to pick it back up, keep pushing. I spent way too much energy in that first mile and now I paid the price. In the second half of the mile I started to remind myself that it was only 20 minutes of pain and then I would be done. I could do 20 minutes.

It started to turn into what felt like a slog fest with a mile and a quarter left to go. In the back of my mind I knew that my PR chances had flown away. I still tried to push though.

Mile 2: 7:09

After looking at the split, I knew in my head that a PR, thanks to the way too fast first mile, was not totally out of the picture. My body had other things to say about that.

Not only did I spent that last mile fighting the negative mental thoughts telling me to slow down and abandon the attempt, I also started to feel like I actually could not run any faster. I asked my legs for more but I spent too much fuel early in that first mile.

As we got closer, I could hear spectators saying things like “good job, ladies!” I knew that the woman I passed a mile and a half ago had not gone away. I could feel my pace slowing and knew that the PR had slipped away. Enough of my competitive spirit remained that I did not want to be passed by another woman in the last quarter mile of the race.

I kept fighting for that faster pace. I felt like I had nothing left. Several burps felt like they would also bring up things other than air. I knew that the end was in sight though. I could not let up now. Only minutes of pain remained.

As we turned the second to last corner I looked down at my watch and saw it tick over to 21. When I glanced up to find the finish line, I knew that too much distance remained between me and it. I kept pushing though, I knew that woman would love to pass me in the final stretch; I know I would.

With the finish line in sight, I poured on as much of a sprint as I could.

Hilton Head Jingle Jingle 5k 2017
I had no idea she was that close.

Hilton Head Jingle Jingle 5k 2017
I look a lot stronger than I felt. Although, I still see that weak hip and a little bit of collapse. (I need to get better at getting those exercises done.)

As we drew near the line, someone came speeding past me. I had a brief moment of panic when I thought it was that girl that I tried to hold off the whole time. Thankfully, it was just a guy coming out of nowhere.

I watched the clock tick from 21:59 to 22:00 as I had about 10 feet left to run. Unfortunately, I still have just the one race with a sub 22 time.

Mile 3: 7:38 (Yes, I win for the “best” positive splits.)
.1 nubbin: 6:47 Finally near my goal pace for a single tenth of a mile.
Overall time: 22:06

Just after I finished, the woman who had chased me for two miles came up and talked to me a little about chasing me but just not being able to catch me. I thanked her for pushing me. There is no way I would have been even close to that pace if I had not known that she ran just behind me.

We hung out for a little while for the awards. I knew that I had earned something. This time, my second fastest 5k time, is also my course PR. I won my age group last year and knew that I would at least win that this year.

Mom checked for the results but perplexingly, nothing appeared for at least half an hour. Mom kept periodically reloading, in between taking photos of me as I tried to drink my water.
Hilton Head Jingle Jingle 5k 2017 (how I really felt, of course ;))

She reloaded one more time and results appeared. I looked over as soon as she said something and then we both let out a joyful yelp. I managed to snag a place on the podium!

I love that fact. I had no idea that I would since the winning times last year far surpassed my PR. 5 seconds separated me from the woman I passed, a woman in my age group no less.

Even though I did not come close to my original goal, I know that I made significant progress. I pushed past the negative thoughts and kept going even when I felt like giving up and in the end achieved something I did not even consider possible.

Hilton Head Jingle Jingle 5k 2017

I like ending my 2017 racing season on this sort of note. Stay tuned for future goals.

Simple Living Aspirations

Anyone who knows me, knows that I rarely sit and do one thing at a time. While I read, I walk around. While I watch TV, I cross stitch. While I work on school-related things, I listen to podcasts. My grandma once asked me if my hands were ever still. Nope. As I mentioned before, I have a mild obsession with making goals and moving full steam ahead. How do I balance that with an almost equally strong desire to simplify, to cut out the extraneous noise and stress.

I will look at where I have been before looking at how that applies to decisions as I move forward. Most obviously, my desire to achieve has manifested as an obsession with making goals. Without a goal, even a patently obviously unattainable goal, I feel aimless and restless. I am the odd duck motivated by achievement badges that can be collected in obscure stretches of cyberspace for any number of different activities. For example, every year since becoming a member of Goodreads, I have set a reading goal and adjusted it if I surpassed the original goal or if it looked like I wouldn’t be able to complete the goal. I know of no other person on the planet who might care that I met, did not meet, or surpassed my goal.

This tendency is not without a dark side. I have seen myself pursue a worthless, completely unimportant goal at the expense of time spent on things that truly matter. For example, several times I have downloaded games like Mahjong, gotten hooked on passing each level with all three stars, looked up to discover that an hour had passed and only after weeks of this abruptly deleted the app because I could not wean myself from the arbitrary goals. It’s this that usually prompts my simple living aspirations.

I read blog posts about people who have eliminated many distractions and wonder what I could get done if I stopped habitually checking Facebook every time I have a free minute. Simplifying the noise that crowds my mind appeals to me. There comes the dilemma. I still think in terms of “what I could get done.”

How do I balance the two seemingly conflicting desires? How do I select the best of both worlds? How do I eliminate the damaging business of trying to do too much while preserving the deeply personally beneficial drive to experience life to the fullest through that which I accomplish?

Those are questions to which I have no simple answer. (Please pardon the pun. I could no resist.) This is where I believe that my simple living aspiration can be most beneficial. As I move forward, I hope to apply the desire to eliminate all stress to and properly prioritize the choices of how I spend my time. For me, I believe that diligent application of this concept will help eliminate negative stress as well as bring further clarity.

I hope to return to this periodically through the coming year.

Feeling Left Behind

As the oldest grandchild on both sides of my family, I accomplished a lot of firsts for the new generation. I was the first born, obviously, the first to go to school, the first the graduate from high school and then college. As I entered adulthood these firsts slowed until they now have trickled into nothingness. That has led to the subject of this essay, feeling left behind. Before I delve into the topic, I must disclose that I have no concrete answers, only thoughts and musings.

As a high schooler, I had plans, dreams about how my life would unfold. I have discussed this in previous essays so I will not repeat myself excessively. I bring up that point to place that propensity in context. These dreams frequently included all sorts of achievements I desired, things to cross off a bucket list before I became acquainted with the term. My dreams followed these activities to the furthest extent the activities could reach.

In reality though, I often shrunk back from actually pursuing that day dream, content to persist in the status quo for its familiarity. Perhaps I believed that reality could never approach the brilliance of that dream. Perhaps I assumed that these various amazing things would just materialize. I stuck with what I knew was achievable for myself while still dreaming of the impossible.

I write now just beyond ten years after graduating from college. Many of the life events I expected to happen have yet to occur. I expected that I would move out of my house when I married and purchased a home with my husband. In reality, I write this entry in my bedroom in the same house I have lived in since my junior year of high school. The room may have changed but the martial status of the occupant, single, has not changed. I expected that I would have at least two children, one of them a girl to whom I could pass on the middle name “Louise.” As I have not married, I do not have any children.

I think about the things I just described when looking at the lives of my cousins and other people I grew up with. I realized recently that out of the eight grandkids on my mother’s side, I am the only one that lives in the same house they lived in at high school graduation except the one who has not yet graduated. The next youngest cousin, age 20, got married this summer and recently closed on a house. Then I found out that another cousin and his wife are in the process of closing on a house that looks they hope to probably turn into an airbnb rental in a few years. By comparison, I look at my own goal of purchasing a house only when I can pay for the whole thing in cash and realize how far away it seems since I have yet to fully fund my emergency fund.

Then there’s the profound FOMO (fear of missing out) generator known as Facebook. Through Facebook I see long single friends become engaged and other former classmates announce pregnancies. The dangers of Facebook-generated envy could fill many pages of another essay.

At the end of the day I must face reality and the stark differences between reality and the dream. Occasionally, I give in to weakness and allow my thoughts to dwell on the differences and wonder why that long single friend can finally find someone to settle down with but I can’t. I feel miserable when I go down this path. That is no life, living for what could be and becoming bitter when things don’t go my way. That’s why, with God’s help, I have chosen a different path.

I am thankful that I do not have to stay in that bitter place. I struggle with how to express this while avoiding sounding trite and cliché. Now when these thoughts pass through my mind God reminds me that His plans are higher than mine, His thoughts far above anything my mind could imagine. I still feel left behind at times, wondering when my turn will come. Thanks to God, I do not need to stay there. He provides the faith and assurance necessary to continue stepping into the unknown.

TreesGreenville Turkey Day 8k 2017 – Race Recap

Race #138
8k #12
2017 Race #20
2017 8k #1
TreesGreenville Turkey Day 8k #8

So…before I get to the recap of today’s race, I have to admit that for the first time since I started running, I did not write a recap of a race that I ran. Last Saturday Mom and I ran the Tryon Half Marathon. Neither Mom or I felt particularly stellar on race day. For my own part, I was on the rough tail end of a cold that just wouldn’t let go along with a couple other minor temporary complaints. It had been a long, emotionally draining week. My only goal for that race was to go out and finish the race. Mission accomplished. Below are the stats for that race, just for reference.

Race #137
Half Marathon #44
North Carolina Half Marathon #8
2017 Race #19
2017 Half Marathon #9
Tryon Half Marathon #4
Final time – 2:02:27

Back to today’s race…

The week as a whole went much, much better. I felt better. I got in a couple speedwork sessions. The cold finally released its stranglehold. I felt confident that I could go ahead with my original plan for this race, use it as a test race for my goal 5k race which happens in a month.

I am glad that I did that. I learned a lot about myself as a racer.

When I put in my goal time into the race pace calculator, it spit out a goal pace of 7:15. I knew that would be tough but I wanted to see how well my body would hold up at that pace

Mom and I started together nearly at the front.

TreesGreenville Turkey Day 8k 2017
(We started behind the line, obviously.)

When the announcer gobbled to indicate the start I took off, feeling almost like a newbie. It has been quite a while since I have raced a short race. For so long as I have rebuilt after the injury and then trained for longer races, I start off at a more reasonable pace. This felt strange as I started that first mile. The pace felt fast but doable. I started to doubt that I would be able to keep up that pace, especially with the “hill of death” coming. (The hill that nearly kills me in mile 3 of the Greenville News Run Downtown 5k.)

Mile 1: 7:13 (spoiler alert…this was the only mile that I achieved my goal pace)

When looking at the course map beforehand, it looked like the “hill of death” cropped up in the first mile. No, we got to start mile 2 with that hill. Thankfully though, the course turned onto McBee, halfway through the hill, so we did not have to run the entire hill. My pace definitely slowed during that mile and only gradually picked up through the second half of that mile.

Mile 2: 7:41

I expected my pace to slow down a little bit because of that hill and determined that I would negative split this course like a champ. If only that mental stamina had persisted.

The third mile of this race was the easiest mile mainly because it lacked any significant uphills. We also had a wonderful little downhill leading into Cleveland Park where we started running on the Swamp Rabbit Trail. I felt good but I think this was where I started to ease the mental push. I should have pushed myself harder here, just a little.

Mile 3: 7:29

I liked the fact that I had picked up the pace. I wanted to do that for the rest of the race. The course and my mental toughness did not cooperate.

Just before we exited Cleveland Park, I saw the uphill and remembered the uphill that challenges me every time. I had no desire to push even harder than I had been pushing up that hill. I knew how challenging that felt. The negativity started to creep in even before I started up that hill.

Then came the hill. I walked, twice, in that second to last mile. I couldn’t believe that I did that. The second time I tried to keep running but my body wouldn’t cooperate. As soon as my mind said that it was okay to walk, my legs eagerly complied with the order. I didn’t walk for long, maybe 15-20 seconds but I had lost the will to battle to the finish, to really shoot for that PR.

Mile 4: 8:06

When I reached that last mile I told myself that there was less than a mile left. I could negative split this last mile. I could push hard. I could get back to that goal pace.

I started off that last mile well. I pushed hard.

Then we turned onto East Broad. I have never run up that street. No one in their right mind would choose to sprint up that street, especially in the last mile of an 8k. That street held a nearly 50 foot elevation change in one block. I did not expect that last hill. Seriously? Yes, I gave in and walked again.

After mentally slapping myself, I took off again. I kept pushing even when we merged with the much slower 5k runners at the turn onto McBee when there was another small hill. As the 5k “runners” around me power-walked up the hill I pushed forward. This hill and that other short 10 second walk slowed my pace for this mile but I am much more pleased with the last mile than mile 4. Mile 4 was the worst mile of the race for me.

We finally made the turn onto Main Street and got to enjoy the downhill.

We didn’t finish on the downhill though. We had to go a little bit further past the downhill until the finish line just before the entrance to Falls Park.

As the finish line grew nearer I threw on a full out sprint and passed about 10 people, most of them 5k participants. I felt so strong through that final sprint and knew instantly that I could have pushed much harder through mile 4. I knew then that I had the fitness level for an 8k PR even on such a ridiculous course.

Mile 5: 7:35
Final time: 38:02 … Yes, I very much wish that I would have started my sprint just a little earlier.

Mom came in about 5 minutes later, looking strong and amazing.
TreesGreenville Turkey Day 8k 2017
Mom finished in 43:17

Final thoughts:
One of the first things that I thought after I finished was that I definitely needed to push myself harder in those last few miles. I felt fine, not even close to nauseated or in pain. That’s how you’re supposed to feel if you lay it all out there on the line for a short race.

It has been so long since I have raced a short race, really raced. For so long I have given myself an out and let myself run whatever pace that I wanted to run. While on one hand, it’s good to give yourself a break and not race every single race. That’s a recipe for burnout. On the other hand, every race can’t be this way, not if you want to push yourself to a PR.

Even though I did not reach my goal, I am glad that I was able to treat this race like a test race for my goal 5k coming up in a month. I know what I need to do. I know that I need to work on my mental toughness.

On the plus side, this is the first time that I have broken 40 minutes in this race, one of the few races that I have run every year since I started running. This is also my third fastest 8k time. The other two are my PR and one other Sunrise 8k where I ran only 2 seconds slower than my PR. To finish not feeling drained at all or like I had given anything close to full out effort? I’ll take that.

I feel reenergized and ready to full-out tackle the second half of my 5k training. Hilton Head be ready. I’m coming for you!

The Reason Why

Nine years ago, many people wondered why I chose Lakeview Middle School for my practicum and student teaching. Some of my cohort members had not even heard of the school. A little over a year ago, when I first got the job that I currently have, many of the same questions arose. AT a summer training, someone said that they had seen the job opening but did not bother applying. “You’re welcome,” she said. Even before I started working at Lakeview, I knew well how everyone viewed this place.

Why did I choose Lakeview?

Originally, I chose Lakeview because I identified with the school. When I lived on East Decatur, Lakeview was the precinct location for my mom when she voted. Additionally, if I had attended public school in middle school, I would have attended Lakeview. Once I started my practicum, my heart knit to those students in a way I could never have imagined. I saw the immense needs each child brought with them, needs both physical and emotional. Though other circumstances prevented me from starting my teaching career at Lakeview, when I returned to teaching, I jumped at the chance to return to the school.

One week ago today, I returned from a trip with 24 of my students that proved exactly why I chose Lakeview and also grew me in a way I could not possibly imagine. This trip exemplified the reason why I teach and why I teach at Lakeview.

This process started back in late September when we held our first Youth in Government meeting. When my colleague asked if I would join her on this adventure, I said yes, having absolutely no idea what lay ahead. I left that meeting which had been chockfull of eager, prospective delegates, many of whom we specifically selected for this opportunity, riding high.

Each week the students gathered and we moved closer to completing bills and perfecting speeches. My colleague and I sacrificed precious brain power to edit and format bills to submit them before the deadline. My colleague sacrificed even more as she worked tirelessly to arrange all the details from arranging the donation of professional clothing to writing the placards with their name and delegation.

We got a small taste of just how amazing the trip would be when the YMCA brought over rack after rack of donated clothes for our students to try on. Two at a time the students selected from the clothes and tried them on. They walked back looking so sharp in their new Oxford shirts, pants, jackets and ties. I witnessed first hand the enormous effect clothing has on how we are perceived and how we perceive others. They looked as amazing as I knew they were.

Finally the day arrived. Chills went down my spine as I watched each student step out of their vehicles, dressed to the nines pulling a suitcase behind them, many accompanied by parents who looked more nervous than their kids. I waited nervously for the last four stragglers and sighed with relief when the last came inside to practice their speeches.

Things did not become real until we entered the Marriott, checked in and got all of our official materials. I felt almost as overwhelmed as the students. I did not want them to miss out on anything simply because I did not direct them correctly. From that point on we hit the ground running.

Our students were so nervous. We entered an already packed conference auditorium. Immediately our students noticed how rich and white everyone was. They looked at the tables already set for lunch and wondered if all they would get for lunch was salad. “Are we going to get any meat?” Several of them asked, severely concerned. They had no concept of an entrée or a multi-course meal.

They relaxed a little at lunch, providing us with plenty of laughs as we responded to their many questions. “Why are there two glasses on the table?” “These napkins are cloth. Are they the same thing that I use to wipe my mouth?” “Why did they put the dessert out if we can’t eat it yet?” “We have to wait until everyone gets their food before we can eat?” Adorable.

All levity vanished the moment that they heard that it was time for committees. All of our students nervously fumbled around, making sure that they had their placards, their folder with paper and their speech, and their pen. With thirteen different committees, we could not go with them all. Many of them went into committees where they were the only Lakeview delegates. As I watched them head out, I hoped that the brief advisor meeting would pass quickly so that we could get into those committee rooms to watch them present their bills. I thought that might be the only time we got to watch most of them at work.

Five hours never passed so quickly. My colleagues and I slipped in and out of committee rooms, watched our students at work, watched them nervously step forward and watched them succeed. We had no time to prep them to ask questions of other bill presenters or to formulate arguments in support or opposition of other bills. We had only briefly prepped them to sum up their own argument in their closing speech. Our students did not let that stop the,. They watched, learned, and executed. By the end of the night, ten out of our twelve bills passed out of committee. The joy on their faces when they posed for a “We passed!” picture? Indescribable. Most of them exceeded their own expectations.

These kids ended the day with completely different expectations. They entered the conference intimidated, believing in their inferiority to the other more experienced, more privileged delegates. They went to bed determined to succeed. They showed up the other delegates at their own game and knew it. Several of our students expressed their disbelief at the lack of good behavior they saw in many of the other delegates. A couple of them commented on the racism directed towards them in committee. Little did we know that was just a preview.

Monday we headed up to the Statehouse itself. My face could barely contain my smile as I took the picture of them standing together on the Statehouse steps. I knew that what we were doing was already making a difference when, as we passed the statue of Ben Tillman, their first response was, “we should write a bill next year to make them remove that statue!”

Things moved into high gear and started to get heated when our first bill pair stood up to present their bill. Their bill would extend eligibility for instate tuition to all South Carolina residents, regardless of documentation status. Lakeview certainly hit the ground running. The first delegate to stand in opposition to the bill started down the track of racism both covert and overt that directed itself against our students repeatedly throughout the day. She consistently referred to undocumented immigrants as “illegals,” claimed that this bill would give them something for free and spouted off that if they wanted to go to college they should have come here the right way or pursue citizenship because that’s supposedly such an easy thing to obtain. (Keep in mind that South Carolina residents affected by this bill would have immigrated as children, brought by their parents.) Our students rose to the occasion. The first, an eighth grader, stood and quite elegantly and passionately defended the bill, remembering several of the talking points we covered with them in the debrief session the day before. Then, in the second affirmative speech, one of the two white students on our delegation stood up in support. That was the moment our entire delegation united as a team. I felt so proud of all of them. The cherry on top came when the bill passed!

I could talk for hours, and already have, about the many highs and lows of this trip in intricate detail. I could talk about the concerted efforts of entire delegations against our students for no other discernable reason other than racism. I could talk about the enormous smiles on those two students’ faces when their bill passed in the Senate. I could talk about the heartbreak four of our girls faced when their bills failed in the House, when the cards felt stacked against them. I could talk about my own frustration upon learning that our first bill had fallen victim to the Youth Governor’s veto, how as I encouraged those young men to continue the fight like those who fought for civil rights, I learned how many of them must have felt when doors kept slamming in their face for over a century. I could talk about how I made a giddy fool out of myself in the hall with the other advisors when another one of their bills passed out of the House. This happened even with other delegates telling their friends not to vote for the bill because “they’re Hispanic”

This day transformed our students. They became victors. Youth in Government is a learning process but just like in life, sometimes you learn how to lose with dignity and win with grace. How can you not love those who go through fire and emerge with love?

This day transformed me. I liked all of these students before the trip. After that trip, I loved them. I learned what maternal love feels like. I learned how difficult it is to battle injustice with dignity when I saw it directed at those I love. My heart nearly burst with joy when I watched them succeed. How could this day get any better?

The bonding continued through the evening. I took many of them on a CVS run and made a distinct impression as the teacher with the (cold-induced) croaky voice who should have brought her whistle. Also, I am that teacher that let them buy candy and Monster; I must have temporarily lost my mind. After supper I lead a small group back to the hotel, skipping the dance, and also became known as the teacher who let them stop at Starbucks. When we returned to school the next day, one of those girls hugged me tight and thanked me again; she’d never been able to go to Starbucks before. Once we got back to the hotel, I saw first hand the devastation that broken promises leave in their wake and experienced the sheer joy that comes from being able to keep a promise for that girl who had lost faith.

Despite all the ugliness, all the “polite racism” as one student termed it, our students exceeded our wildest dreams and their own. Several won awards. We did not expect that. Lakeview won premier delegation; people noticed their hard work. We returned home exhausted but exuberant and then my heart nearly exploded with joy. The entire school stood outside their classrooms to cheer and clap for their classmates.

This trip epitomized why I teach and why I chose Lakeview.

For Love of the Run

A little over a week ago, I ran my 43rd half marathon. Sometime in the midst of the run a recurring thought popped into my head, the thought of wanting to be done already. This thought and others like it occur fairly often during runs of all types, not just races. Why do I do it then? Why do I devote so much time, energy and money to something I frequently just want to finish and be done with. In this post I will attempt to explain something I have thought about for years, a feeling nearly indescribable, something that has hooked me so well, I just can’t quit.

To explain, I have to look back. My number one strength is context, after all.

Growing up, I both loved and hated running. i loved the sprints like the 50 yard dash at field day in elementary school or the sprint to first base after hitting an infield ground ball in softball. I loved the idea of accomplishment, of beating everyone across the finish line or beating the throw to first when everyone assumed that it was an automatic out. I disliked the prolonged effort of running the mile in junior high and high school. Others beat me routinely. My junior high P. E. teacher sat on the bleachers while we ran. I distinctly remember how much we all disliked her for that. I felt out of shape and lacking in the athletic gift department. A homeroom full of jocks in eighth grade helped little. In the end, I internalized these negative thoughts and believed the lie that athletic endeavors aside from recreational softball weren’t for me.

Then steps in the achiever in me. I often obsess over goals, anything from reading a certain number of books in a year to completing 26 races before my 26th birthday. I started running because of the thought of adding the tantalizing title of “half-marathoner” to my list of accomplishments. Many times over my first few years running, doubts dogged me through every single run, especially those leading up to my first half and full marathons. I wrestled with doubt throughout the races until I crossed the finish line. Why did I keep going then? Pure stubbornness, pigheadedness. I made a goal and I determined to keep it. When did it switch? When did it become something I do for the love of it rather than an extrinsic and sometimes self0created reward?

This came on gradually, lacking a specific aha! moment. The longer I ran, the more specifically I trained, the fitter I became. My body leaned out, becoming thinner but not lighter. My speed increased which led to a climb up the rankings. I no longer felt out of shape when I ran. I often finished runs feeling exhilarated, thrilled with my effort and hungry for more. Often I felt highest when the run had challenged me the most. I felt the lowest when I gave in to the negative thoughts and cut the run short or walked in a race.

Why running then?

Running suits me. The long minutes and hours stretch out like a canvas primed for the paint of my imagination. Running suits my introvert nature. I can go for a run whenever. I have no need to scrounge up other people to form a team. I tasted success much more quickly with running than with sports that required much more upfront investment.

Where do these thoughts of being ready to finish come from then? I have thought them from the moment I started running; I love a good countdown. These thoughts stick around because running still challenges me. I push to the uncomfortable point, expecting the due reward at the finish. The thoughts come from the struggle. The payoff comes with the finish line.

That is why I continue to run marathons and chase my Boston dreams. I hurt like no other time than in the throws of the marathon, all of the miles that come after mile 19 yet I push forward because that marathon finish line bestows a high like no other. Even when my time expectations got the better of me, I cross that line and smile form ear to ear.

This past Sunday reminded me of both the struggle and the victory as I watched Shalane Flanagan pull away from three time NYC Marathon champion, Mary Keitany and end her professional career, likely, with her first world marathon championship, the one thing lacking form her stunning pedigree. I watched her run, her stride strong and steady and wanted to get out there. I thought about her dedication to her training and wanted to step up my own efforts. I watched my all time favorite athlete, Meb Keflezighi give absolutely everything he had in his final competitive marathon, his 26th at age 42, and collapse at the finish line, utterly spent. That feeling surpasses all others for me, that feeling that comes after leaving everything on the course. Then I watched a little of the footage of some of the 50,000 other runners there that day, all running the marathon and thought back to the amazing sensation of camaraderie I felt in Chicago last month.

All these words still do not come close to an accurate picture of the runner’s high, the thing that keeps me running even when I start a count down. I run for love of the run, for all the reasons I delineated and the intangible ones that elude my tenuous grasp on the English language.

Education as an Educator

Sometimes I feel like I go to more classes or trainings than my students. If I were to go ask others in the education arena, every single one of them would agree.

Before entering the school district as a teacher, every person must have at least a bachelor’s degree. To advance in any sort of meaningful way, an educator must earn a Master’s degree. To move into administration, educators must obtain a degree in educational leadership. To renew and maintain a teaching certificate the educator attends a variety of professional development for recertification points the total of which depends on the individual state regulations. Throughout the school year educators attend in school day PDs designed, hopefully, to equip educators with the necessary tools and resources.

I understand the motivation behind the regulations. The creators and implementations have good intentions. (I try to give them the benefit of the doubt as far as intentions go.) A lot goes wrong when it comes to implementation.

My first encounter with this phenomenon came with my initial foray into the profession. I attended a challenging K-12 school and later graduated with a bachelor’s degree in which nearly every class challenged me to work hard to earn the high grades. I entered my graduate education program with the expectation that my classwork would challenge me beyond what I had experienced in undergraduate education.

I applied myself with full vigor to these classes, only to find that phenomenon where you push or pull too hard and find yourself flying because of the sudden release. I attacked initial assignments with my usual overachiever vigor. Then I looked around and saw the results of my work and the work of my classmates. I ended up being challenged in a meaningful way only in practicum and student teaching. I did not realize it then but much of that challenge came from inadequate preparation and training.

When I started teaching the first time around, I marveled-not in a good way-at how so many trainings and meetings devolved into vent sessions. I had support from my instructional coach but little to no training on how to transition from teaching social studies or language arts to teaching Spanish. Naive and inexperienced, I figured that the skills I had learned would easily translate to the new subject. I had no training in developing multiple lesson plans; my first year I had four distinct preps. I spent most of those two years so completely underwater, I have no recollections of faculty meetings or PDs.

When I returned to school, I received what I craved, challenging, stimulating education. I had to work to earn this 4.0. I worked far more vigorously than I ever had to in my first Master’s degree. I knew that graduate work was supposed to be difficult.

After my long hiatus from teaching, I yearned for as much training as I could possibly have. I wanted to equip myself with as many techniques as I possibly could so that I could give these students the best education possible. The phrase “utter frustration” approximates my feeling after each so-called training. I either knew all the information or the training lacked any depth or both. Additionally, many of these trainings contained “discussions” with colleagues about an inadequately explained topic or a hands-on demonstration of a particular technique that added nothing to my understanding of the topic.

I hoped for better when it came to the wonderful opportunity to take graduate TESOL courses from Furman for free, courtesy of the district. I thought it would challenge me, finally. Not even close. We held many discussions, postponed due dates, significantly adjusted assignments to make them work for the students in our class. I had hardly any outside of class work to complete. I hoped that this current semester would hold more applicable subject matter. While it does, I now feel a bit of frustration with the material and in class meetings and their lack of specificity regarding the teaching of English Language Learners rather than students in general.

The icing on the cake came with the two courses I took this past summer as required to add the Gifted and Talented Endorsement to my teaching certificate, a stipulation on my employment contract. I knew that logistics would be difficult with all the travel I planned. I hoped to also have a bit of a challenge academically as well so that I could grow as an educator. What came with these classes blew my mind but not in a good way. We met only twice, once at the beginning and once at the end of each class. The remainder of the class “took place” in Google Classroom. The assignments looked on the surface to be somewhat vigorous, so the Type-A student within me indulged in a brief panic moment although that quickly dissipated when I observed the incongruity of the copied and pasted instructions with the format of the class and ability of the “instructor.” I could fill numerous pages with many ridiculous recollections but I will limit myself to just two. One, all of our assignments for the entire first class were graded on one day, more specifically within two hours. With approximately twenty students in the class each completing six assignments, I’ll let you figure out the ramification. Two, due to a much longer story, I never obtained the textbook for the second class, the one geared for curriculum and instruction. I cobbled together responses for the reading reflection as well as a unit and lesson plan with zero additional instruction or support. I based my work solely on prior knowledge yet I earned full credit.

All of these stories indicate a glaring discrepancy between perception and reality. Peruse the department of education’s website, specifically the certification requirement page. All of that looks good on paper. Require teachers to have technology proficiency while classes on the basics of Google docs provide points to satisfy this requirement. Require teachers of gifted and talented students to obtain an endorsement to show that they took classes to learn how to best teach these students while accepting credits from a substandard class. Require that teachers attend trainings outside contract hours so they can have a day off which results in additional time requirements outside of school. These teachers attend these trainings just to earn the hours which means they often bring things to grade or other things to finish, thus learning nothing from the “training.”

I struggle with the disconnect. It shouldn’t be this way. Something need to change. More requirements is not the answer. The problem is so endemic, I and others like me cannot change it on our own. A part of me wants to put something like “it might not ever change” into the discussion here. That would be giving up. I don’t do that. I also will not say that I have no answers. The reason that needed change seems so hopeless is that the solution requires a heart change. Educators on both side of the table need to adjust their approach. Right now the only thing I can do is change my own approach and advocate for change.

Spinx Run Fest Half Marathon 2017 – Race Recap

Race #136
Half Marathon #43
South Carolina Half Marathon #31
2017 Race #18
2017 Half Marathon #8
Spinx Run Fest Half Marathon #4

I almost forgot about this race. After Chicago, my mindset shifted first to recovery and then to building up for a 5k PR training cycle. (I’m finally devoting an entire training cycle to a 5k!) It’s a good thing I already registered for this and that Mom texted me earlier in the week asking me to remind her which races I had registered her for.

I was on my own for this one. Mom had a marriage conference at church so she couldn’t run with me. I made no distinct plans. My half marathons coming on the heels of marathons usually do not include anything close to speed. Although, usually I am the glutton for punishment who decides to run one two weeks after a marathon. This time around I waited an extra week.

Dad was going to come watch me at the finish but forgot to write it on his calendar. I totally get that. I have to write things on sticky notes or to do lists and still forget half the time.

Instead of writing a detailed recap I will simply leave a summary. I knew while I was running that I would likely not have enough to write a detailed post. I simply settled into an easy pace, at least it actually felt pretty easy and zoned out, in a good way.

My paces were as follows

I continue to love this race distance; yes, I am half crazy.