I have a vague recollection of making a deal with the devil a few weeks ago. In my last few days before the Marathon, I gave a whole new meaning to the term “active rest.” I iced and stretched multiple times a day, I consulted every sports injury book I could find, and I even tried at home, do-it-yourself accupressure, all in hopes of magically making my random undiagnosed general foot/leg injury go away in time to run the marathon pain free. I begged and pleaded in my own head with the running powers that be, to heal me. I even remember thinking, just let me be 100% for race day, then I’ll take all the time off my body needs. Doh! Rookie mistake. The words are coming back to haunt me in the days and weeks since crossing the finish line.

General soreness went away in a day or two, but the pre-race injury that so cooperatively stayed away on race day has come back with a vengeance. It is definately on the mend, but taking its sweet time. A few days off turned into a few weeks, and now it has been 16 days since I have been running. But who is counting. And ok, I did sneak one little walk/jog in there desperate to get back on the road, but I was dragging my reluctant pit bull and ended up doing much more tug of war-ing than actually running so it doesnt really count. I had thought so much about pre-race, it didnt cross my mind what might happen post race. As ridiculous as it sounds, my whole life had unknowingly been separated into two portions; pre marathon and post marathon. My days were so consumed by my training plan that every evening and lunch break were masterly calculated and planned days in advance. My friday night plans were dependant on how long my saturday morning run was going to be and my saturday afternoons were allocated to spend as much time recovering as necessary. Some might say I was a little obsessed, and I daydreamed about how great it would be post marathon when I could sleep in, drink coffee in my pj’s and suddenly have hours and hours of free time added back into my week. What exactly was I thinking??

I think I have settled into a little bit of post accomplishment funk, all made worse by an injury that is keeping me from running altogether. But If I were able to continue running afterwards, I kind of think I still might be in a similar predicament. 4 months of focusing on a very specific goal and then. . .nothing. Anyone is bound to feel a little down, right? I have actually found myself missing the songs on my ipod and searching for another excuse to put the earbuds in, just to bring me back. So now the problem is: what to do about this? Last night over corned beef and guiness, I began to drop hints to my training buddy about potential goals for the future. Has she heard about this triathlon? That half marathon? Trying to plant the seed of getting a new goal on the calendar, even if it is eons away. I think just having a big red circle somewhere in the datebook will help. But unfortunately I think she is still in the post race euphoria, excited to trade running dates for cocktail dates, and actually responding to all of her emails instead of reading the latest workout/recipe/blog on runners world. But lets not give her too many ideas. Selfishly I am hoping she finds herself searching for purpose and a way to work off all that corned beef soon so we can both be back on the wagon. In the meantime, I’ll try to enjoy having more time to walk the dog, watch more movies, and do more cooking. All of the things I thought I missed so much. Turns out, I enjoy everything a little more, when running is a part of my schedule, too. Maybe when my official training starts back up, I will remember this and appreciate just how busy my days are, just a little more.

I felt like a complete moron wearing hard plastic boots and carrying two skis like someone who has never eaten with chopsticks. I peered around and hoped that no one was looking at my personal fiasco in getting across the parking lot. Granted, I grew up skiing and most my life felt confident in and around skis, but today I felt like a newbie all over again.

Six seasons ago I made the switch from two boards to one, and haven’t looked back, until now. I’ve signed up for the four week long Women’s Days program at my local ski resort, Eldora, in the telemark clinic. It is, as the title gives away, a program specifically for women to get instruction in a new sport or hone the ones they already have. It seems like a perfect environment to learn a new sport.

I dumped my equipment at the door to the lodge and headed up to the lounge area where we were told to meet. Apparently, in my late and hasty scramble to get out of the house this morning I not only lost my glove but it cost me a yummy buffet breakfast. Note to self, get up earlier next week. I was quickly greeted by the organizer who asked me some questions about my ability and assessed I would need to be the in red group. I panicked, what does that mean? They had just flagged me as the ultimate beginner. Red, meaning watch out for this one, she’ll be cutting pies across the slopes? Or maybe, red, she is such a beginner that she is a danger to herself? I needed to lower my anxiety level and just go with it. I was introduced to my fellow students and our instructor, Diane and immediately felt a little more at ease. Well except for the fact that I was missing one glove. Diane came to my rescue by grabbing me her extra pair. All this and I hadn’t even been on the snow yet.

On our first chair ride up, I focused on not dropping my poles while also trying to absorb the tips Diane was passing on. Her descriptions of how to use edges and the differences between alpine skiing and telemark made all the sense in the world. She explained techniques for the beginner with such concise detail and patience, I figured I would have no problem putting those theories to practice when we unloaded. Of course my years of skiing would help, right? Hmm. Not so much. Good thing they flagged me as RED.

Getting used to the fact that my heel was not secured in place was one of the more difficult hurdles, not counting trying to ski in a lunging stance. The fresh powder made my falls a little less painful and turns (albeit alpine) a little easier. I was cutting wedgies out of the side of the hill, as well as perfecting the art of skiing backwards down the slope. Every time I fell, those damn poles got in the way, so I was thrilled when Diane told us to leave them at the bottom for the remainder of the lesson. One less thing to think about. In the middle of feeling like I was being taught to walk for the first time, I felt my ski roots coming back to me. Remembering all the tricks my father, who was a ski instructor, had embedded into my head. I feel a reconnecting with a part of my past that I thought I left behind when I made the switch to snowboarding. My dad will be happy to hear that! I was having fun on two sticks again.

Lunch couldn’t have come at a better time. I piled my plate high with most of the items in this gourmet spread and sat down to get an overview from Diane on the first half of our day. We were all given tips on what we needed to work on individually and watched the video of ourselves she had taken on some of the runs. I blushed as my portion came up. Code Red. I was well behind the level of my fellow students, but they all had encouraging words and I felt like I had a team behind me routing for me to get better. The camaraderie between us was building and I could see why women specific programs have become so popular. My inhibitions were starting to fade. I couldn’t wait to get back out for the second half of the day to practice.

I lasted for a few more runs, bloated with overeating and quads that felt as if they were going to explode. Diane told me to have patience in my turns, so that became my mantra for the rest of my day. Seeing as I am not a very patient person, this is probably good advice for me to heed. By the time I bid my crew goodbye with homework in hand I felt as if I made some new friends and rekindled a love of skis. It felt good to feel vulnerable, and like a beginner. To feel like a little kid again to some degree and to challenge myself was invigorating. I can’t wait for next Tuesday.

After a crazy past two weeks of getting injured, then getting sick, I somehow, barely by the skin of my teeth, finished my first marathon yesterday!  I had spent the past 16 weeks training so it wasnt exactly out of the blue, but after an injury that kept me off running for a week, then the flu that took my very last week pre-race, I was struggling to believe it was even possible, right up until the friday night before.  I finally decided I would give it a shot, runny nose and all.  And I couldn’t be happier with my choice.  My running career has been short.  Evening jogs with my dad as a kid eventually sequeing into short jogs as an adult, but not until about 3 years ago I decided I wanted to BE a runner.  Whatever that means.  After crossing the finish line yesterday, even being the skeptic I am, I cannot doubt that I earned that runner status.

I expected to be stressed leading up to the race, but what I experienced was something totally different.  Instead of worrying that my training would fail me, or that after devoting 16 weeks of my life, 16 early saturday mornings to training for this, that I would have a performance better suited for an off-the-couch marathoner (yes, they do exist), I worried that my leg would hurt too bad and force me to leave the course and take the metro to the finish, or that my cold would fill my lungs and not let me breathe enough to run.  But I decided to take it bit by bit, and focused on getting myself to the starting line.  Once I was there, it was just a matter of doing what I came to do.

No matter how much advice I received leading up to race day, though much of it was fabulous, nothing could have possibly prepared me for what I actually endured.  To be honest, it was pretty much what I expected for the first 18 miles.  Starting getting tougher around 19, then by 22 the race was no longer physical.  4.2 miles from the finish there was no way I wouldnt make it.  I would crawl if I had to.  But my body was breaking down.  My hips felt like hinges that had rusted and broken off.  My feet felt like bricks.  And no matter how much water I poured over my head, it felt like it was 1000 degrees out.  But being the debater that I am, I talked my way through those final grueling miles.  I told myself that if I just kept putting one foot in front of the other, the miles would pass by on their own.  Each mile was not counting down to the finish but instead was one more massive accomplishment of its own, eventually equaling 26.2 massive accomplishments for the day.  Eventually, I rounded the corner just past the 26 mile mark, saw my family screaming and waving through a crowd of thousands of spectators and saw the finish line just ahead.  A lump formed in my throat at the sight of my dad, 6 time marathoner, cheering me in, but I quickly told myself I did not have enough energy to cry AND keep running.  So I swallowed and focused forward, eeking my way across the finish line.

It may be too soon to know what I really learned from all of this, but one thing, I just cant stop thinking about.  This is me, running day after day, week after week, and eventually, this is me, my body and my mind, knock knees and all, accomplishing an actual respectable feat.  I have a new appreciation for my skinny legs.  And a new appreciation for the power that my mind has over itself.  I had no idea that it would be my fierce negotiating skills that would ultimately get me across the finish line.  So though my legs wont bend today and I type with an ice pack taped to my injured ankle, I have to admit, there still seems to be a little extra spring in my step today.

Last June Kelsey Crider graduated from Boulder High School with plans to attend Fort Lewis College in Durango, CO and fulfill her dream of being a photographer. But an undiagnosed hereditary kidney problem put all those plans on hold for her. Kelsey’s dad donated a kidney, but the transplant failed and Kelsey is now on the waiting list of the United Network for Organ Sharing. She currently has to have dialysis three days a week.

When Michelle Theall, Women’s Adventure’s founder, read about Kelsey in the local Boulder Daily Camera, she immediately wanted to make at least a part of Kelsey’s dream come true. Women’s Adventure is sponsoring a series of conferences in 2008 on writing and photography and Michelle invited Kelsey and her mom to attend the Photography Conference, taking place April 12-14, 2008, at no cost.

You can read more about Kelsey’s story at the Boulder Daily Camera (http://www.dailycamera.com/news/2008/feb/17/bhs-grad-fights-kidney-battle/). And, if you’re interested in reading more about the conferences, visit our website at www.magazineconference.com.