Just 2 Goals : Deadwood, South Dakota 1/2 Marathon

Me: The Real Deal, My Family

When I changed business names and created a new blog, I intended to share a bit more of my real life… Here’s my first non-photography post:

Running the Deadwood, South Dakota Mickelson Trail 1/2 Marathon with my sister, Annie, was an idea born just 6 months before the race…over a heaping plate of food on Christmas. “Sure! I’m in!” I said not really having a clue what running a 1/2 marathon would entail.

I wanted to get back in shape. Clara was a year old, and what I had around my waist wasn’t baby weight, it was “stay-at-home-mom weight”

The treadmill that I bought months earlier and hadn’t even used was about to get a visit from…Me.

I ran nearly every night in the winter.

In a cold and unfinished basement.

Staring straight ahead at a bare brick wall covered in cobwebs. It was just like the fancy gyms and workout rooms you see in the magazines…except not at all.

I felt very uninspired and I didn’t even know how to train for such a run. If I was tired after 1 mile, I’d stop. If I ran 6 miles I would text every member of my family. My inconsitency was beginning to worry me. I credit my siblings and mom for keeping me on track… The text messages from them would fly across the miles: “Did you run today?” “You can do this!” “If you run tonight you’ll feel so much better” “JUST. KEEP. GOING. CHELSIE.”

Occasionally I’d watch the Biggest Loser on my ipad. It sure made the time fly by and there was certainly a dose of inspiration that I wasn’t getting elsewhere. If a 300 pound person could run a race on a sandy beach, surely I could run an hour on my treadmill.

The winter months dragged on, the Biggest Loser season ended, and I was getting frustrated. The race was only 6 weeks away and I hadn’t even begun training outside…

April 19:

I had JUST 2 GOALS:

#1. Finish the race

#2. Don’t walk on your way there

On the night of May 19, just 2 weeks before the race, I did my first “big run”…10 miles in the rain and it was amazing. For the FIRST TIME during this process, I KNEW my body was capable of running 13.1 miles.

On Saturday June 1, a day before the race, 9 of us headed west to Deadwood, South Dakota. Our mom, Clara and myself, my sister, Annie & her family, and my sister, Mackenzie and her daughter. We are lean, mean, packing machines. If there was any open space, we filled it with a child.

I was so excited but so nervous. Mostly nervous about what the heck I could consume within 24 hours of this race and not regret later…ahem…if you know what I mean. I’ll remind you, I’m no pro runner: I don’t have fancy shoes, or timing gadgets, or cute running outfits. I wouldn’t know what to do with music strapped to my upper arm. I’m a pretty basic runner: putting on shoes (and two sports bras) and placing 1 foot in front of the other. My diet was about as inconsitent as my “training” schedule.

We arrived in Deadwood (after a bajillion stops…we were traveling with 4 babies) Annie and I checked in, received our race numbers and then it hit me. I’ll even venture to say that for a few moments there, I even felt like an athlete.

I bought a t-shirt that really spoke to me. Living in the middle of the woods and running countless miles along gravel roads and corn fields, I could relate to this:

We were tired from a long day of driving and played with babies all night in our hotel room:

5:00 am came awfully quickly. I got ready fast and read The Runner’s Prayer: Run by my side; live in my heartbeat; give strength to my steps. As the cold surrounds, as the wind pushes me, I know You surround me. As the sun warms me, as the rain cleanses me, I know You are touching me, challenging me, loving me. And so I give You this run. Thank you for matching my stride. Amen.

32 CHILLY degrees greeted Annie and me as we walked out of the hotel. She was my constant reminder of what we were both capable of. She reminded me how much fun I was going to have, how beautiful the course was and how satisfying it would be to eat a big fat burger a few hours later…We had decided early on we were not going to run together. Annie, a personal trainer and former marathon runner was by my side for about 17 seconds after the gun sounded. I was so proud of her watching her weave her way to a position she was comfortable. To this day, I’m in awe of her and all the other runners who actually pick up the pace the further they go. I ran along the right edge of the narrow Mickelson Trail feeling fantastic. The views of the Black Hills were inspiring. I made sure to look left and right as often as I could taking in the creeks and forest that surrounded me. Mile 7 was a killer….a slight but long lasting incline threatened my goal of NOT WALKING, but I would not and could not stop. I kept running and even though my deep breaths could have been heard by the wildlife around me, I didn’t care, I just kept going. I never ran more than 10 miles in my training. Annie told me if I did 10 miles at home, the last 3 could be accomplished on race day by pure adrenaline and crowd support. As I passed mile ten, the sun was shining but I felt like I was dying. I saw a sign that read: “You’ve done harder things than this!” Umm, no. I haven’t, thank you.

I heard the crowd and I knew I was close. I picked up the pace, but really, I was probably only shuffling by that point. I was so eager to see my Clara and the rest of my family at the end.