13 in 2013 aka How I Degenerate Into a Miserable Person When I Don't Run

At the end of 2012 I made a commitment for 2013 to run 13 races in 2013. I signed up as part of a group and agreed that I would run at least 13 races (of whatever length I could muster) at some point during the 12 months of 2013. I think I had completed four or five 5k races in 2012 so it seemed like a pretty big deal at the time.

The 13 in 2013 challenge has made it quite an incredible year for me. I ended up completing not only 13 races but a total of 17, including my 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th half marathons. I also ran my first full marathon and improved my 5k time by almost 5 minutes. In the process, I completed my first double digit run ever and logged more than 750 miles. (January 19, 2013 - @MamaDeak Ran my first ever 10 miler this morning. Aside from giving birth to my son, it's the most powerful I've ever felt. #TLAM2013 #MotherRunner)

I ran through grief and a little bit of heartache. I ran happy and with expectation for the future. I ran with friends and family. I ran with teammates and I ran alone. I ran up and down the east coast - from Buffalo to Boca Raton. I ran in the sweltering heat and in the freezing cold, with wind whipping in my face and snow sticking to my eyelashes. I jumped over snakes, dodged spiders and ate bugs. I'm on pair #3 and #4 of running shoes since I took up running 2 years ago and on the 3rd incarnation of my wardrobe given that I've lost 45 pounds in the last year.

Through my races and the training that has come with them, I have learned one incredibly important lesson about myself - I need to run.

After completing my first full marathon and following it up with my first Run Disney race less than a week later, I took a lot of time off. I went from November 9th until December 17th not running anything more than a couple of 5k races (literally it was two - a Turkey Trot and a Mistletoe race). I thought that I was doing the right thing in taking all that time off from running and maybe my body did need a big chunk of rest, but my mind and my soul needed to run.

November and December were incredibly difficult months for me - professionally and personally. You name it and I had it going on. Life was piling on and running was the one time when I would have had the clarity to make sense of it all...or just stew when I couldn't. Without running I become irritable, anxious, and increasingly sad. Not running during the dark yet busy months of November and December only made these things worse. I'm reminded of a quote from Dimity McDowell that I read earlier this year, "Because sometimes running is the only thing to do when you don't know what to do." For me, I know now that couldn't be more true.

I began training again Christmas week and by Day 2 I felt like a new person. I was thinking more clearly. I was embracing life in a new way. I was caring much less about what other people thought and much more about what was right for my own journey on this planet. It's amazing what a few good runs can do. After my first week back to marathon training - this round of training is with the goal of a BQ - I knew that I could never take that long off from running again. My body, mind, and soul just need it too much. So what did I do? Well, I signed up for 14 in 2014.

My 13 (17) in 2013

1. March 2 - Cupid's Chase 5k, Princeton, NJ, 28:16

2. March 9 - Allstate Miami Beach 13.1, Miami Beach, FL, 2:11:39 (http://www.mamadeakspeaks.com/2013/03/train-like-mother-rocking-my-1st-half.html)

3. March 17 - Shamrocks for Sandy 10k, Manahawkin, NJ, 53:19

4. April 28 - Nike Women's Half Marathon, Washington, DC, 2:04:49 (http://www.mamadeakspeaks.com/2013/05/nike-womens-half-marathon-washington-dc.html)

5. June 2 - YMCA Montclair 10k, Montclair, NJ, 1:01:28 (http://www.mamadeakspeaks.com/2013/06/goodbye-to-grandpop-kady.html)

6. June 22 - Go Dirty Girl Mud Run, Albrightsville, PA, Untimed 5k with obstacles

7. July 7 - Color Run, Brooklyn, NY, Untimed 5k

8. July 13 - All Star Game 5k, Prospect Park, Brooklyn, NY, 26:41 (http://www.mamadeakspeaks.com/2013/07/five-days-of-baseball-heaven-in-nyc-all.html)

9. August 10 - Belmar Chase 5k, Belmar, NJ, 24:55

10. August 31 - Kentlands-Lakelands 5k, Gaithersburg, MD, 24:35

11. September 14 - Undy 5000 (5k), Philadelphia, PA, 23:29 PR! (http://www.mamadeakspeaks.com/2013/09/the-rock-n-roll-philly-half-marathon.html)

12. September 15 - Rock N Roll Half Marathon, Philadelphia, PA, 1:51:30 PR! (http://www.mamadeakspeaks.com/2013/09/the-rock-n-roll-philly-half-marathon.html)

13. October 13 - LBI 18 miler, Long Beach Island, NJ, 2:35:31

14. November 3 - ING NYC Marathon, New York, NY, 4:07:24 (http://www.mamadeakspeaks.com/2013/11/anne-luck-deak-marathoner.html)

15. November 9 - Disney Wine & Dine Half Marathon, Orlando, FL, 1:57:03

16. November 28 - Trinity Turkey Trot 5k, Princeton, NJ, 25:17

17. December 14 - Mistletoe 5k, Hamilton, NJ, 24:41 (http://www.mamadeakspeaks.com/2013/12/deep-darkness-and-budding-hope.html)

2013 was a great year. I ran some amazing races, met some awesome people, and had some of the most inspiring experiences of my life. Having already logged my first 6 training miles of 2014, I can't wait to see where this year takes me. I have no doubt it will be one heck of a ride.

A Kiss, A Teddy Bear, and a Jake the Pirate Serenade

My little guy has become an expert at comforting his mama when I'm sad. Believe me that it's an expertise that I wish he didn't have to perfect at 3 years of age, but he has been learning about grief and mourning since he was 15 months old. Even then he had obvious instincts as a comforter. He would gently rub my shoulder or pat my back whenever I was upset or displayed some sign of missing Joe. His offerings matured as he did and three weeks ago, on the 2nd anniversary of Joe's death, his chosen method of comfort towards his mom was to give me some of his cranberries - his very precious cranberries - while we were riding in the car together.

This morning I was in my bedroom when I got the news that my friend and fellow CWA organizer Connie English had passed away. She had been in a car accident last Saturday along with her husband, Herman, who died at the scene. The tears just came and with them my son found his way into my room. He always seems to know the moment I start to cry. I don't think I will ever forget what happened next.

First he climbed up on my bed and told me he was going to make me feel better. He told me he was going to give me a hug and a kiss and then he did. After the hug and kiss he told me that he wanted to give me his teddy bear and then sing me a "Jake" song. Would I come into his room with him? Of course.

I was heartbroken, but somehow my little guy depositing his teddy bear in my arms and serenading me from his Jake and the Neverland Pirates CD was a "life rushes in" kind of moment. Just like when he offered me his cranberries 3 weeks earlier, there was no way I could ignore the earnestness of his effort. He wanted nothing more than for his mommy to be happy and for that moment at least I was proud and energized and blessed.

The day still went on. And it was hard. The reality is that I'm finding it incredibly difficult to talk about Connie in the past tense. It still feels so surreal that she is gone. That Herman is gone. That I won't see them at our next CWA Convention. Or on a dance floor. Or around Trenton. How is it possible that I won't have another chat with her about how her running is going? That we will never get around to running that race together we always talked about but never did. Today, time is the enemy.

I have no doubt that as stories are told in the coming weeks they will reveal the deep impact of Connie's work as an organizer. She was damn good at it and people loved her. I think that those of us who do this work often get caught up in the day to day and lose sight of the fact that what we do involves helping workers win big changes between the "before" and "after". That impact can matter greatly for workers for a lifetime and I believe we will see that Connie's legacy is particularly powerful.

For me, today was a day of refocus. There is a saying I've seen repeatedly over the past two years that has resonated with me that really hit home today. It goes like this: There will be a day when you can no longer do this...Today is NOT that day.

I never got to run a race with Connie but I did the one thing today that I know always helps when I need to clear my head and get my soul on track. I went for a run. Today though, it wasn't just any run and perhaps that is fitting. This was Week 1, Day 1 of my journey to qualify to run the Boston Marathon - a journey which will almost certainly take me more than one attempt and which could very well take many years. For as long as I am physically able, I will keep pushing on until I get there because certainly there WILL come a day when I can no longer do it, but thankfully that day is NOT today.

A Dose of Hope from Jimmy V

Tonight I found myself at the end of a long work day in a hotel in upstate New York missing my son, wishing I could be with my Dad on his birthday, and overwhelmed with the instances of loss and pain surrounding me. It's been a dark week and I needed a dose of hope.

As often happens in these situations, I got it. And also as it often goes, I'm sure the person who directed me to it has no idea that he did. Our texts back and forth were nothing spectacular but they let me know to flip my channel to ESPN at about 9pm. The Florida Gators were playing at Madison Square Garden in the Jimmy V Classic. Not that I care that much about the Florida Gators men's basketball team, but I do know that Jimmy Valvano's speech from the Espy Awards in 1993 was one of the best speeches I've ever heard.

They replayed it before the Gators v. Memphis game started and I had a healthy, cathartic cry as I found that dose of hope. Then, I made a contribution to the Jimmy V Foundation.

I would bet that his speech might do the same for you if you are feeling a little December dark these days:

Thank you, Thank you very much. Thank you. That’s the lowest I’ve ever seen Dick Vitale since the owner of the Detroit Pistons called him in and told him he should go into broadcasting. 

The I can’t tell you what an honor it is, to even be mentioned in the same breath with Arthur Ashe. This is something I certainly will treasure forever. But, as it was said on the tape, and I also don’t have one of those things going with the cue cards, so I’m going to speak longer than anybody else has spoken tonight. That’s the way it goes. Time is very precious to me. I don’t know how much I have left and I have some things that I would like to say. Hopefully, at the end, I will have said something that will be important to other people too.

But, I can’t help it. Now I’m fighting cancer, everybody knows that. People ask me all the time about how you go through your life and how’s your day, and nothing is changed for me. As Dick said, I’m a very emotional and passionate man. I can’t help it. That’s being the son of Rocco and Angelina Valvano. It comes with the territory. We hug, we kiss, we love. When people say to me how do you get through life or each day, it’s the same thing. To me, there are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. Number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy. But think about it. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that’s a full day. That’s a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you’re going to have something special.

I rode on the plane up today with Mike Krzyzewski, my good friend and wonderful coach. People don’t realize he’s ten times a better person than he is a coach, and we know he’s a great coach. He’s meant a lot to me in these last five or six months with my battle. But when I look at Mike, I think, we competed against each other as players. I coached against him for fifteen years, and I always have to think about what’s important in life to me are these three things. Where you started, where you are and where you’re going to be. Those are the three things that I try to do every day. When I think about getting up and giving a speech, I can’t help it. I have to remember the first speech I ever gave.

I was coaching at Rutgers University, that was my first job, oh that’s wonderful (reaction to applause), and I was the freshman coach. That’s when freshmen played on freshman teams, and I was so fired up about my first job. I see Lou Holtz here. Coach Holtz, who doesn’t like the very first job you had? The very first time you stood in the locker room to give a pep talk. That’s a special place, the locker room, for a coach to give a talk. So my idol as a coach was Vince Lombardi, and I read this book called “Commitment To Excellence” by Vince Lombardi. And in the book, Lombardi talked about the fist time he spoke before his Green Bay Packers team in the locker room, and they were perennial losers. I’m reading this and Lombardi said he was thinking should it be a long talk, or a short talk? But he wanted it to be emotional, so it would be brief. So here’s what I did. Normally you  get in the locker room, I don’t know, twenty-five minutes, a half hour before the team takes the field, you do your little x and o’s, and then you give the great Knute Rockne talk. We all do. Speech number eight-four. You pull them right out, you get ready. You get your squad ready. Well, this is the first one I ever gave and I read this thing. Lombardi, what he said was he didn’t go in, he waited. His team wondering, where is he? Where is this great coach? He’s not there. Ten minutes he’s still not there. Three minutes before they could take the field Lombardi comes in, bangs the door open, and I think you all remember what great presence he had, great presence. He walked in and he walked back and forth, like this, just walked, staring at the players. He said, “All eyes on me.” I’m reading this in this book. I’m getting this picture of Lombardi before his first game and he said “Gentlemen, we will be successful this year, if you can focus on three things, and three things only. Your family, your religion and the Green Bay Packers.” They knocked the walls down and the rest was history. I said, that’s beautiful. I’m going to do that. Your family, your religion and Rutgers basketball. That’s it. I had it. Listen, I’m twenty-one years old. The kids I’m coaching are nineteen, and I’m going to be the greatest coach in the world, the next Lombardi. I’m practicing outside of the locker room and the managers tell me you got to go in. Not yet, not yet, family, religion, Rutgers Basketball. All eyes on me. I got it, I got it. Then finally he said, three minutes, I said fine. True story. I go to knock the doors open just like Lombardi. Boom! They don’t open. I almost broke my arm. Now I was down, the players were looking. Help the coach out, help him out. Now I did like Lombardi, I walked back and forth, and I was going like that with my arm getting the feeling back in it. Finally I said, “Gentlemen, all eyes on me.” These kids wanted to play, they’re nineteen. “Let’s go,” I said. “Gentlemen, we’ll be successful this year if you can focus on three things, and three things only. Your family, your religion and the Green Bay Packers,” I told them. I did that. I remember that. I remember where I came from. 

It’s so important to know where you are. I know where I am right now. How do you go from where you are to where you want to be? I think you have to have an enthusiasm for life. You have to have a dream, a goal. You have to be willing to work for it. 

I talked about my family, my family’s so important. People think I have courage. The courage in my family are my wife Pam, my three daughters, here, Nicole, Jamie, LeeAnn, my mom, who’s right here too. That screen is flashing up there thirty seconds like I care about that screen right now, huh? I got tumors all over my body. I’m worried about some guy in the back going thirty seconds? You got a lot, hey va fa napoli, buddy. You got a lot.

I just got one last thing, I urge all of you, all of you, to enjoy your life, the precious moments you have. To spend each day with some laughter and some thought, to get your emotions going. To be enthusiastic every day and as Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “Nothing great could be accomplished without enthusiasm,” to keep your dreams alive in spite of problems whatever you have. The ability to be able to work hard for your dreams to come true, to become a reality.

Now I look at where I am now and I know what I want to do. What I would like to be able to do is spend whatever time I have left and to give, and maybe, some hope to others. Arthur Ashe Foundation is a wonderful thing, and AIDS, the amount of money pouring in for AIDS is not enough, but is significant. But if I told you it’s ten times the amount that goes in for cancer research. I also told you that five hundred thousand people will die this year of cancer. I also tell you that one in every four will be afflicted with this disease, and yet somehow, we seem to have put it in a little bit of the background. I want to bring it back on the front table. We need your help. I need your help. We need money for research. It may not save my life. It may save my children’s lives. It may save someone you love. And ESPN has been so kind to support me in this endeavor and allow me to announce tonight, that with ESPN’s support, which means what? Their money and their dollars and they’re helping me-we are starting the Jimmy V Foundation for Cancer Research. And its motto is “Don’t give up, don’t ever give up.” That’s what I’m going to try to do every minute that I have left. I will thank God for the day and the moment I have. If you see me, smile and give me a hug. That’s important to me too. But try if you can to support, whether it’s AIDS or the cancer foundation, so that someone else might survive, might prosper and might actually be cured of this dreaded disease. I can’t thank ESPN enough for allowing this to happen. I’m going to work as hard as I can for cancer research and hopefully, maybe, we’ll have some cures and some breakthroughs. I’d like to think, I’m going to fight my brains out to be back here again next year for the Arthur Ashe recipient. I want to give it next year!  

I know, I gotta go, I gotta go, and I got one last thing and I said it before, and I want to say it again. Cancer can take away all my physical abilities. It cannot touch my mind, it cannot touch my heart and it cannot touch my soul. And those three things are going to carry on forever.

I thank you and God bless you all.

You can watch the speech and see the text on The V Foundation website.

Deep Darkness and Budding Hope

The past 48 hours have left me emotionally full and only one tiny step closer to being "ready" for Christmas. (We finally put up the little Christmas tree tonight!)

My church, which I have attended since birth, has been going through a difficult 3 year transition since our long time pastor retired.  So difficult in fact that on more than one occasion I have thought about leaving the church and that on a regular basis over the past 3 years I have sought my spiritual growth from other spaces and places. On Friday night, we had the opportunity to meet, for the first time, the woman who our Pastor Nominating Committee had selected to be our next pastor. Throughout the weekend there would be opportunities to meet her and then on Sunday morning she would lead worship. Afterwards, our congregation would vote on whether to officially call her as our next pastor (spoiler alert: WE DID!). 

I started my research on her as soon as her name was announced last Sunday, but it wasn't until I met her Friday night that I really started to believe that this church which I have called home since birth may not actually be pushing me towards the door.  In spite of the frigid temps outside, there was great warmth inside and the discomfort I have felt so regularly in my church over the past 3 years was slowly starting to melt away. After spending an hour and a half in that space meeting and greeting I left with a peace that something good was finally brewing at Kingston Presbyterian. I cried some tears of relief and joy on my way home.

I was lucky enough to start Saturday off with an appointment with my favorite massage therapist before heading off through some light snow flurries to my last race of the year. I joined my cousin and her husband for the Mistletoe 5k at the Mercerville Fire Company in Hamilton, NJ. It was 28 degrees, snowing, and a little windy. A month ago I finished a Thanksgiving Day Turkey Trot in similarly cold weather in 25:17, definitely not a personal best but respectable considering the hills, the cold, and the fact that I hadn't run since November 9th. I wanted to do better on this run and finish out what has been an incredible year of racing by running a strong last race. But it was cold and snowing and the first mile the wind was blowing right in our faces. Oh, and I hadn't run since the Turkey Trot.

With my cousin and her husband at the Mistletoe 5k

Thankfully, I had a good playlist (that's really all you need, right?) and a Santa hat to keep me warm. There were also a couple of guys who seemed to lose their steam along the way and it's always fun to pass someone on your way to the finish line. So my playlist kept me plugging along even while the snow was coming down harder and harder.

Rise Today - Alter Bridge

Overcomer - Mandisa

Shut Up and Drive - Rihanna

Roar - Katy Perry

I Don't Wanna Stop - Ozzy Osborne

A Cut Above - Avery Watts

Lose Yourself - Eminem

I wasn't too far into Lose Yourself when I crossed the line - in 24:40something (official results aren't up yet, but I did apparently get 2nd in my age group). I had finished race #17 in a year that saw me complete my first (and second and third and fourth) half marathon(s) and my first full marathon. I had run a strong race in the snow to add to other races which I've completed in the sweltering heat, the punishing wind and the dark of night. I felt accomplished after this race because of the whole year of racing that came before. I am a different person now than I was before in so many ways. Knowing what I have accomplished this year makes me look forward to next year with tremendous hope, even in the midst of the deep darkness that is winter.

I have an awesome friend who has been taking good care of me, especially over the past few months and I'm glad that she has been encouraging me to step out of my comfort zones. Earlier in the week, she went clothes shopping with me and kept making me try on smaller and smaller sizes until I actually bought clothes that fit. (I'm still in disbelief by the way.) On Saturday night, she made plans for me to have an honest to goodness adult night out and it was a blast. The four of us didn't do anything special (unless you count discovering how poor of a capitalist I am by playing Monopoly as special) but we took advantage of being snowed in and drank some beers and laughed together. It was one of the best nights I've had in awhile and I'm thankful to my parents who held down the fort at home with the little guy while I enjoyed myself.

It wasn't until about 7:30am Sunday when I heard the horrible news. It flipped my weekend upside down and reminded me once again that our moments here on earth are incredibly precious. I learned that Connie, a friend and fellow organizer, had been in a tragic car accident the night before. Her husband, Herman, who had been driving, died at the scene and she was in the hospital fighting for her life. When I think of Herman and Connie I think of pure love. Of best friends. Of dance partners and life partners. He was a shop steward in CWA and she is an organizer with the Union. Herman was a wonderful man and Connie was his match. Needless to say, I went to church this morning with a very heavy heart.

I have been in a constant state of crying out to God for Connie's health all day today and I know from her Facebook wall that I'm not the only one. In church, I passed along a prayer request and asked the rest of my congregation to join me. Rev. Sharyl Dixon, our candidate for pastor preached and led our worship service. During her sermon, I finally started to feel at home in my church again. As she prayed and lifted up Connie's health and Herman's grieving family and friends, I was overwhelmed with God's presence there. I felt a level of care in that space that I have found to be intermittent at best over the past several years. I felt like there was a rebirth of sorts in our faith community. The waiting is finally over and now I feel something that I haven't in quite awhile...hope.

I am still sad and awaiting word on Connie's condition, but there is a profound difference in knowing that the faith community I call home is one where I once again feel I can go with both my deep darkness and my budding hope. 

Somehow that meant I found the strength to decorate the little Christmas tree tonight. 

This year, Domani was old enough to help so he "unwrapped" the ornaments and helped pick out a spot on the tree as I told him the story about each one. Some, like the ones with photos of Joe or a Mets logo didn't need any explanation, but he was quite interested in the ones from when he was born or the ones from Aunt Jen that had our names on them. I might need to be concerned, though that he seemed to know right away who Peter from the Family Guy was and seemed completely unfazed by the fact that the Peter ornament is naked except for a strategically placed gift. His father's son, I guess.

The little Christmas tree all decorated for 2013!

Rise Today

I've cried a lot already this week. And it's only Wednesday.

There was lunch at my parents' house on Sunday after church. We had pizza with my parents, Karen, Chris and Catherine, just like we have done many other Sundays, but this time there was a sad cloud hanging over the house. It was our last Sunday lunch there since the house is about to be sold. I remembered Sundays long ago in that house with my grandparents and the whole extended family and then more recent family dinners with Joe and the new babies in the family. I started crying in the kitchen as the enormity of it all began to sink in.

There was my office at work on Tuesday, still unpacked from when I switched offices just before Thanksgiving. My stress level had peaked and my mind was really wondering what it would be like to throw my computer out of my 3rd floor window. I started crying as I sunk into my chair while feverishly trying to organize the files I needed for the next day - all well after everyone else had already gone home for the day.

There was the car this morning on the way to take Domani to my sister's house. I started crying when he said that he missed his Daddy. He replied by saying "I'll find a way to help you stop crying Mommy...here's a cranberry."

There was New York Penn Station this afternoon as I was walking to catch my train and listening to a couple of new tunes that Justin had suggested to me. Who would have guessed that Watch Over Me by Alter Bridge is such a powerful little song. It caught me completely off guard and I started crying as I was walking down to Track 4 for the train to Newark.

There was the cemetery this evening before I went to help facilitate our last grief support group of the fall at my church. I started crying as soon as I sat down on the bench in front of where Joe is buried. I sat listening to some tunes and cried a lot. And then I turned to a song which has been inspiring me again and again for the last month. It was helpful.

Rise Today
The wind is blowing cold
Have we lost our way tonight?
Have we lost our hope to sorrow?

Feels like we're all alone
Running further from what's right
And there are no more heroes to follow

So what are we becoming?
Where did we go wrong?

[Chorus:]
Yeah, oh yeah
I wanna rise today
And change this world
Yeah, oh yeah
Oh, won't you rise today
And change this world?

The Sun is beating down
Are we ever gonna change
Can we stop the blood
Come on now! 

Our time is running out
Hope we find a better way
Before we find we're left with nothing

For every life that's taken
So much love is wasted

[Chorus:]
Yeah, oh yeah
I wanna rise today
And change this world
Yeah, oh yeah
So won't you rise today
And change... 

This world
Only love can set it right
This world
If only peace would never die

Seems to me that we've got each other wrong
Was the enemy just your brother all along?

[Chorus:]
Yeah, oh yeah
I wanna rise today
And change this world
Yeah, oh yeah
Oh, won't you rise today
And change this world?

Tomorrow is 2 years since Joe died. Tonight I changed the ringtone on my morning alarm to Rise Today for a little added inspiration. I have to go into NYC for work, a particularly challenging trip given that it will take me right to the neighborhood where Joe received many of his chemo treatments. Perhaps it will be a "Rise Today on repeat" kind of day. Maybe I will even need some cranberries from Domani when I get home.

What I'm Not Doing This Holiday

For the first time in as long as I can remember I didn't make the sweet potato casserole this morning. I decided a few days ago that it was just too much. There's a lot going on in my life right now and I won't go into it all here, but I think the real reason I decided to skip making the sweet potatoes is because last year I used salt instead of sugar.

I know that probably seems like a silly reason, but I remember so clearly how my Grandpop was happily eating those sweet potatoes right up until one of us took a bite and realized that something was VERY WRONG. It didn't take us long to figure out that the white stuff in my unmarked container was salt and not sugar and my morning of peeling and mashing and mixing and baking was in the garbage can before you could say Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Grandpop seemed unfazed. He complimented me on them regardless and said how they are always delicious and then moved on to the other things that were still on his plate. 

He died on May 31st of this year and I miss him so much. So this morning after I ran a Turkey Trot 5k I stopped by the cemetery and recounted the story through a flood of tears. If there is one thing that I have learned over the past two years since losing Joe it is that  I must listen to where I am at and be respectful of what I am capable of on any given day. Today was not going to be a sweet potato casserole day.

So I'm glad that last night I emailed the sweet potato casserole recipe that I use to my mom. I think she plans on using it and I'm sure she will not confuse her salt with her sugar. I doubt, though, that any of us will be able to eat it without thinking of Grandpop and how different our Thanksgiving table is this year. And that is perfectly ok. After all, Thanksgiving is about being thankful even if that is for some wonderful memories.

Anne Luck-Deak, Marathoner

In some ways I think the reality is still sinking in. I did it. I ran all 26.2 miles. I completed the journey during which I raised over $5,000 for the American Cancer Society and I crossed the finish line with a smile on my face and more joy in my heart than I could have ever imagined. Not only did I do it, but I enjoyed every minute of it and I've already set my next marathon goal. (More on that in some future post.)

As almost always happens when I race, I woke up before my alarm. In this case, that meant about 4:30am since the Team DetermiNation bus was scheduled to leave for the start area on Staten Island from just outside Central Park at 5:45am. It was a good thing we lucked out with an extra hour of sleep and that I had mostly adhered to my "lights out" time of 11pm the night before. I came back from our Team DetermiNation pasta party inspired, but with a terrible migraine, so I had been concerned about my ability to get any sleep before the race. Thankfully, I had gotten a good night's sleep on Friday (I'm told that's the key anyway) and I slept off my migraine for a good hour before my pre-race prep and my actual bedtime.

Inspiring view from our Team DetermiNation Pasta Party of the
 Empire State Building lit up for the Marathon

By the time my morning wake up rolled around, I was actually feeling pretty good and as ready as I was going to be for my 26.2 adventure.

I posted this photo on Facebook before leaving for the Marathon.

My friend Scott who had already been more than hospitable during my stay in NYC hopped into a cab with me to make sure I made it over to my Team DetermiNation bus without any problem. I arrived in plenty of time and was on my way to Staten Island by 6am.

Many thanks to Scott for playing host to me & my
parents for the weekend.

I was able to catch at least another half hour of shut eye on the bus and then it was through all the security measures to gain entrance to the start area at Fort Wadsworth. Everything was so organized and the race officials and volunteers were a proper measure of enthusiastic and serious. I couldn't believe I was actually there and I couldn't have been happier to finally find the Charity Village area!

In our Team DetermiNation tent we had hot coffee, shelter from the wind, and inspiration beyond measure. I was able to spend time hanging out with my friend Melissa and her husband Paul - fitting since Melissa is the reason I found myself at the start line that day. There was a beautiful banner in the tent which featured photos of many of our loved ones who motivated us to run with the Team - it included a photo of Joe, Domani and me from our trip to LBI in July 2011. Then, not long after Melissa and Paul had left to join their Wave, in walked Kate and Alena who I had trained with in NJ. It was so nice to see them and share hugs and take photos together in advance of our own starts.

With Melissa under the bridge after checking my bag

Posing with the "I'm Racing For..." banner in the Team DetermiNation Tent

I thought that the morning hours leading up to my start time would drag on, but the truth is that the time just flew by. Before I knew it, our coach Ramon was announcing that it was time for those of us in Wave 3 to make our way over to the start corrals.

With Kate, Alena, & Coach Ramon just before leaving for the Wave 3 Corral Start

We watched from just outside our corral as the first wave started across the bridge and it was spectacular. I alternated between watching the big screen that was set up in the start village and the bridge itself which was directly in front of me. I just couldn't believe I was actually there and that in less than an hour it would be me going across that same bridge starting my first marathon.

Watching Wave 1 cross the bridge from just outside our Corral

The next 45 minutes passed quickly as those of us in Wave 3 made our way into the start corral and maneuvered our way past all of those waiting for a last minute bathroom break. I was in the corral with Lindsey, another Team DetermiNation runner and I was so happy to be sharing the start experience with her. We ditched our outer clothing along with the other items which would go to Goodwill just before moving out of the corral up towards the bridge. Much of what happened next was a blur except for the moment when they started playing New York, New York and it seemed like the whole crowd started singing along. It was the first time along the marathon route that I got teary, but it wouldn't be the last. What a thrill it was crossing that start line after that send off!

The first two miles were exciting but so windy that I found myself wondering what NYRR would do if all of our bibs flew off our shirts at the same time and landed in the Hudson. I spent most of mile 3 dodging outerwear that had been thrown to the ground haphazardly and by mile 4 I finally felt like I was in a groove, attributed mostly to the great spectators in the Brooklyn neighborhoods. I found myself running towards the sides of the course, taking my time and high fiving anyone who offered - but especially all the kids. I was having a grand time and enjoying everything about running in NYC.

I was able to ride the crowd to keep a cool and steady pace through Brooklyn and into Queens, periodically relying on my random shuffle tunes to provide a little pick me up here and there. Then came that 59th Street Bridge. I had been warned about it. Several friends, including my Team DetermiNation coach, had explained it in detail. I had done all my hill training, but it was still tough. I tried to remember everything I had learned. I went to my race mantra - You + God = Enough - which was written on a rubberband around my wrist (thanks to a tip from my sister Naomi). But mostly, I just kept my eyes forward and thought of Joe.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity, I could tell that I was finally running downhill. As I could see the bend that would lead me off the bridge and into Manhattan, I heard the first few bars of Don't Stop Believin' come through my earbuds and there was just no stopping the tears. The timing could not have been more perfect for what that song meant to me and for that moment in the marathon. It wasn't just a good running song, it was my Joe calling at a critical moment and it played as I ran past the Team DetermiNation photographer and it continued as I waved at everyone cheering outside Memorial Sloan Kettering where Joe received care. It was one of those moments in life when everything moved in slow motion. I felt like I was the lead actress in my very own perfectly scripted movie. Running just doesn't get much better than that.

Not sure exactly where this is, but one of my
favorite photos from during the marathon.

About 20 blocks later at around mile 18 I came upon the first spot where my parents and Scott were waiting to cheer me on. All along the course, I had plenty of people cheering for me by name (thanks to my parents who helped iron my name on my shirt), but there was something really incredible about coming up on Mom & Dad and Scott yelling for me and seeing Mom with her neon sign that said "Go Anne". It was just the extra boost I needed to press on towards the Bronx.

Somewhere around mile 20 I got another much needed boost when I caught up with Melissa and Paul as they were running through the Bronx. It was so nice to see them and run beside them as I surpassed that 20 mile mark and ran what with each step became my longest run ever.

Once we re-entered Manhattan via the Madison Avenue Bridge I could feel the excitement welling up inside. Five miles to go and the crowds were awesome. I was starting to feel tired and I knew the difficult incline at Mile 23 was coming up. In my mind, I was counting down the streets until 91st where I knew I would once again see my parents and Scott. Somewhere along the way I walked through my first Gatorade stop, stretching out my legs a bit as I walked. Hearing spectators along 5th Avenue cheer for me by name kept me going throughout that very difficult Mile 23, but I knew that I would need an extra boost to finish strong.

As I approached 91st Street and spotted that familiar neon sign I made my way over to my mom and gave her a big hug. She was crying. I was crying. It was another one of those slow motion moments (and not only because I was exhausted!) I will remember hugging my mom during Mile 24 of my first marathon for the rest of my life and I'm sure that every time I think about it I will smile and tear up just a little.

The special Mile 24 hug

After  the hug, it was into Central Park I went for some beautiful scenery and, yes, a few more hills. I walked my way quickly through one more Gatorade station and then somewhere around Mile 25, it was random shuffle to the rescue again as I was treated to a little Pearl Jam. What better song to round out my first marathon than Alive - with just enough grit to push me out of Central Park and onto 59th Street where I ditched my earbuds in exchange for the cheers of what seemed like a neverending throng of spectators. That final stretch was fabulous and as I rounded the bend at Columbus Circle I felt every emotion in the book well up inside me. Five months of training and fundraising and the finish was right there. People were cheering. Big signs counted down every 100 yards for the final stretch. And then I was there. A finisher of my first marathon - the NYC marathon.

Crossing the finish line

In my mind, I had a goal of finishing the marathon in 4 hours and perhaps in even less than 4 hours. I didn't do that and I had a feeling from early on that I wouldn't. Perhaps if I were able to run with a 4 hour pace group (there were none available in my slower corral) I could have done it. Maybe if we all weren't dealing with the wind being so tough that day it could have been different. But really, what it came down to for me was that I wanted to enjoy every minute of my first full marathon. I joked with friends and family afterwards that if I hadn't spent 7 minutes and 25 seconds high fiving kids in the outer boroughs and hugging my mom at Mile 24 then I could have gone sub 4 and there is more than a grain of truth in my jest. Looking back though, I wouldn't have run this race any other way. I loved the energy. I loved the love. And I loved taking it a bit easy and soaking it all in. There was something truly wonderful about this race this year in this city. And I'm not ashamed that I cry every time I think about it. I got to run my first full marathon in memory of my husband Joe in a City that was special to both of us with a Team that was more supportive than I could have imagined and for a cause that is close to my heart. Nothing can top that for your first 26.2.

Thank you, New York City, and thank you to all of my friends, family and donors who have supported me on this journey. You were with me for every mile.

Showing off my bling

The NYC Marathon version of "Where's Waldo"...where's Anne?

Finisher!

My donation page for the American Cancer Society will remain open for the next few weeks so if you have not made a donation yet, but would like to there is still time. Thanks again for the overwhelming support you have given me - it has been inspirational beyond measure.