Life is why.

Here is something I know for sure:

I can do just about anything I set my mind to doing if I just show up, try my best, and refuse to give up. This morning I woke up to a relentless rain on a day that I was scheduled to run a half marathon. A half marathon for which my training had left some things to be desired. When I picked up my race number the day before and heard about the forecasted weather, I was honestly feeling fifty-fifty about even showing up at all. To make matters worse, my morning MARTA train was delayed for technical difficulties and nearly threatened to make me miss the start time. Which would have been a perfectly acceptable excuse to turn around and go straight back home.

Yup.

Then I thought about something my friend Larry S., a cardiologist and Emory colleague, gave me last week. It was a lapel pin he'd gotten from an American Heart Association meeting with a pair of red running shoes and a simple statement on it:

"Life is why." 

He made sure to put it into my hands because he, a seasoned runner, knew that I was a relatively new one who'd been motivated by the loss of my sister to heart disease. I'm so glad Larry gave me that pin and thought of me that day. It was just the motivation I needed this morning. A reminder of why I run.

And so. I showed up. By myself. In the rain. Early in the morning. I tried my best. And didn't quit.

And you know what? It rained the entire time. Hard sometimes even. And it was cold, too. But guess what? I dug in, thought of my sister, and finished strong. I sure did.

So why would an already tired and already exhausted full-time working mother of two go out for a 13.1 mile in a chilly downpour?

Life is why.

Yeah.

***
Happy Sunday. How are you challenging yourself?

The extra mile.

My best friend is a woman named Lisa D. We met on a warm summer day in July of 1992 during our medical school orientation week. Me, a new alumnus of Tuskegee University, and her, proudly sharing that she was a  product of Hampton University. Beyond both schools being historically black colleges, this should have been some foreshadowing of our futures. Tuskegee and Hampton are "sister and brother" schools because a unique connection--Booker T. Washington, the founder of Tuskegee, was a Hamptonian -- just like Lisa.

Yep.

We became fast friends. And since that time, our friendship has weathered the test of time. We have laughed harder than any two people can together and have cried the most soul-stirring, gut-wrenching cries imaginable. We have celebrated each other, disappointed one another, agreed on just about everything and completely couldn't see eye-to-eye on anything. But still. Like the pillar that it is, the friendship always remains.

Yesterday we ran a 15K race together. In the early morning chill, we laughed and chatted and talked about everything and nothing. We reminisced on things and talked about the future. And for nine miles and some change we did what we have done since 1992--create lasting memories out of everyday occurrences. It was easy and awesome.

Our time together NOT that hellaciously hilly course we ran.

Ahem.

But, then again, I guess that's a good metaphor because really, really good and true friendships that transcend into sisterhoods can be hellaciously hilly at times, too. Life changes like marriage and kids and break-ups and make-ups and, for us, medical school and residencies and jobs and so much more redefines things as you know them from time to time. That can feel uphill sometimes. But there comes a point with each of those swells when you know you've come over the mountain. And once you've done that enough you know that you always will.

No matter what.

After the race we had breakfast at a cute little neighborhood bistro. Our forks crossed over from plate to plate as usual and our conversation crossed over from topic to topic, too. And over a sun dried tomato omelet and a most interesting interpretation of Eggs Benedict we agreed that we were thankful for moments like these. And a friendship like this.

I've said it before and I will say it again: Women need women to survive. To be our best and to be whole, we do. Our husbands are not enough. And to those who find women to be somehow less palatable as friends? Or who "don't really have too many women" as friends? Hmmm, If the person who says that is herself a woman, I say beware. That's what I say.

Women need women friends. Really good and true ones. Ones that will run hard up the most hellaciously hilly courses with you and go the extra mile.

I have that. And I'm glad.

***
Happy Monday.

Team S.J.G.R. Thursday Huddle #18: RUN TELL DAT.

 

When I went to my primary doctor for my annual check up recently she asked me an interesting question.

"What are your goals for the next year? That is, health-related goals?"

Okay. I have to admit that I'm kind of glad that she clarified that question since it probably wouldn't have meant very much to her to hear about how I am determined to keep my home tidier and empty out the junk drawers. (Which, depending on which day it is, could totally be a major health-related hazard.)

But I digress.

The point is that my doctor--and many others like her--recognize the importance of getting the patient as involved as possible in their own outcomes. Goal-setting is a big part of that. And so. She asked me about any goals that I might have and I just sort of sat there with this puzzled look on my face because I wanted to give a solid answer.

Crazy, I know. (It's the lifelong medical student in me, I suppose.) I guess I was thinking about things like setting a quit smoking date or losing like ten pounds and felt like since I didn't really have a goal like that, I was drawing a blank. And since she saw that, she clarified once again.

"The goal can be anything related to your health. Anything that you haven't done but hope to attain and that you wish to work toward."

I still wasn't sure this counted but I went ahead and shared about the Army Ten Miler. "Well. I registered for the Army Ten Miler in Washington D.C. That's coming up in October. I'm not sure if this fits what you're asking."

"Have you ever run a ten mile race?" she asked.

"Never. I'm a new runner, actually."

And smiled big and nodded hard. Then she typed my goal straight into her electronic medical record. "That's great! What are you doing to prepare?"

And so I explained my training program. I told her about my supportive friends and this whole world of runner girls that I'd come to know better. And then I mentioned the part about being inspired by Deanna and how this whole idea of heart health, in a way, is something I do to honor her as well as try to prolong my life. The look on her face told me that she didn't know. She didn't know about my sissy leaving us.

"I didn't know, Kim. I'm so, so sorry." And when I looked at my doctor I could tell that she meant that. She touched my hand and didn't say much more at first. I told her what happened and she was thoughtful and empathic and understanding. I cried a little and that was okay, too.

"So what is the date for the 10 miler?" she asked.

"October 20."

"Maybe you can get some kind of neat shirt or something. I can't wait to hear how it goes. Any other goals?"

"I did sign up for another 10 miler here in Atlanta that happens to be the following week. If I feel good on the first one, I am going to go for that one, too. But since I had the stress fracture before I want to listen to my body."

"That's awesome, Kimberly," she responded again. "Just take your time and don't over do it. You should be fine based on what I see here." And that went into my record, too.

Well. As you know, I did that Army 10 miler. And you know what? Last weekend, I was out there with quite a few of our other Team S.J.G.R. people running the Atlanta 10 miler that following week. I felt strong and proud at the end. I loved that I had set a goal -- wait, GOALS -- and achieved them. It was really encouraging.

And you know? Something about putting it into the atmosphere by writing about that first goal on this blog and even telling my doctor motivated me more. It put my feet to the fire because now I knew someone would ask. "How was your race? How is the training coming along?" And no, it wasn't a goal to fit into skinny jeans or to blow somebody's mind at homecoming. We know that that isn't really sustainable and it also makes us do crazy things to get there like trying liquid-only diets or other extreme things that don't feel logical while we're doing them. This goal was different. It was something that I was doing for my heart as well as my overall mental health. And something that I knew would make me feel connected even more to my sister. . . if that even makes sense.

I don't know.

I just thought of something. Saying those goals out loud put them into the universe. And we all know that there is truly something significant about that. What I just thought of is that it goes for our positive goals and affirmations as well as those negative ones. You've heard me say it here before:

"Leave the hating to the professionals."

Saying negative things about yourself or your ability to attain your best life can become a self-fulfilled prophecy. Uttering that you just "can't" ever quit smoking or that you just "give up" on whatever it is you're doing or trying is a sure fire way to make that the case. And guess what? When you take a deep breath, quiet that little voice and decide to dream big and out loud, it ignites something inside of you.

And others.

And others! You inspire people. You motivate them. No, not just by weight loss. But by achievements. Intestinal fortitude. Stick-with-itness. Does that make sense?

Here is my next goal for myself:

 

Yep. I put it on my vision board and, as of Tuesday, have officially registered to run 13.1 miles on Thanksgiving morning. Talk about earning your turkey and dressing! Dude. I am more than slightly terrified of the thought but also extremely excited about knowing that this goal awaits me. I may have told you guys but when I first started running, I originally wanted to run a half marathon in Deanna's memory. I had set my sights on the Chicago Women's Half in June 2013 because the proceeds went to the American Heart Association. But then I had that fibular stress fracture which set me back bigtime and that? Man, that was super discouraging. 

But I had some goals in mind. A goal to run. A goal to challenge my body and give a gift to my cardiovascular health by tackling some yet unattainable distance. So once I healed, I started back at it. Slow at first. And kind to myself the entire way. I reworked my goals. I picked something meaningful and realistic. And then I said it out loud.

Sure did.

What I don't think I said was that a lot of these goals were things I wanted to achieve in 2013. This is a significant calendar year for us. 2013 is the centennial of our sorority, and Deanna would have celebrated all year long. So getting this done in 2013 is huge for me. 

And is just the beginning. 

You know what else? November 15 will mark one year since Deanna made her heavenly transition. And instead of focusing my energy on that, I will think about how many of you are doing things for your hearts and your minds and your lives. And how much Deanna would have loved having that kind of impact. Just the thought of how many people she has touched who never met her in person is so comforting and it somehow feels. . . .I don't know. . . divine in a sense. 

Yeah.

So that's it. I've made it public so now it's on. My eyes are set firmly on that prize. I will complete a half marathon in 2013. That is my goal. Put out into the universe. I will train my body so that I can run strong for 13.1 miles in November of 2013. Every pant and every hill will be a celebration of my heart, my life and my love for my unforgettable sister. It will also serve to remind me of what we can do when we make up our minds. And for this one? All 13.1 will be for her. Which in the end, is for me, too.

And you know what? I think I will do something similar every August (Deanna's birth month) and every November (Deanna's transition month) from here forward as long as my body allows. Yes. That is my GOAL. And you can feel free to ask me about it to keep me on the straight and narrow.

Okay. So what are your goals? I want to hear them. Put them in the atmosphere. Share it here. Tell it. Say it. Own it. And then? Do it. 

And after you have? Set new ones. Dream bigger. Reach higher. And even if it scares the hell out of you--don't keep it to yourself. Don't. It is not "a jinx" to put it out there. Or any other ridiculous thing that stops you from owning your loftiest goals. Yeah, I said it. So tell somebody. Say it out loud.

Or like the kids in the neighborhood used to say: 

"RUN TELL DAT!" 

Which for those of you who aren't from around the way means "I DON'T CARE WHO YOU TELL! GO TELL EVERYBODY WHAT I SAID!"

Or better yet, as the Grady elders say:

"GO TELL IT ON THE MOUNTAIN!"

Which is kind of a more biblical way to say RUN TELL DAT. (Hmmm. Now that I think of it, "run tell dat" usually preceded somebody getting into a fist fight after the school bell rang so I take that part back.)

Uhh yeah.

Wait. What was my point again?

Always the Deanna mile--the last one.

Oh yeah. Goals. Set them. Tell them. Do them. It's good for your hearts. Figuratively and literally.

That's all I got. What you got? What's your goals? Big or small. Come on. You GOT this. You DO. So go ahead. Go tell it on the mountain, people. And while you're at it--once you've told 'em, tell them this:  

RUN TELL DAT!

Yeah.

***

Happy Thursday. The realness don't stop--even on Trick o' Treat Day.

Now playing on my mental iPod. . . . .y'all don't know nothing 'bout no Mahalia Jackson! Don't nobody tell it on the mountain like Mahalia. Shooooot.



and this is sure to get your feet stomping and your hands clapping. . .Run and Tell That!



 

The Army Ten-Miler: A run for your life.

Feel it comin' in the air
And the screams from everywhere
I'm addicted to the thrill
It's a dangerous love affair

Can't be scared when it goes down
Got a problem, tell me now
Only thing that's on my mind
Is who's gonna run this town tonight?

~ from Jay Z feat. Rihanna "Run This Town"

____________________________________________

A letter to Deanna:


Dear Sissy,

Remember that day that we were sitting at my kitchen table and I told you that I wanted to be a runner? And then I started laughing and you said, "Why are you laughing? You can totally be a runner, Kimberly!"

Do you remember that?

Well, I do.

I do because on that same day I told you that I hoped to one day run the Peachtree Roadrace and also how it was sort of on my pie-in-the-sky bucket list to someday run The Army Ten-Miler. And I laughed hard at myself again for even daring to utter those words "ten-miler" because we both knew that while I have always exercised, running always seemed to elude me.

"Crystal H. runs a bunch. Let me reach out to her to see what she says." That's what you said to me and then, of course, like you always do, you made sure that we got in contact with one another. And by "we" I mean "she" (who is just as much of a follow-througher as you) texted and emailed me promptly with all sorts of permutations of running groups and gatherings.

Sure did.

I can't say that really did the trick but I am thankful to you for that. And Crystal, too, for trying back then. Yeah. So even though I publicly professed my desire to be a runner girl, I guess I never had anything to nudge me hard enough to get over the hump of . . . well. . . running. 

Mmm hmmm.

Well. When you left? Man. It was literally the darkest time of my life. But what's crazy is--because you were always so full of light--even at the times where things felt pitch black, I could always see your light shining in the midst. And the crazy thing is that instead of shining out of you in the living, it started shining out of all kinds of other people. Including me.

Yep.

So guess what, Sissy? You'd be so, so proud of what I'm going to tell you. That's what did it. Remembering you saying to me that I could and wanting to focus my energy and pain into something meaningful. So yes. I actually started running. Like, for real, Sissy. Can you even believe it? I know, I know. You're going to say, "I knew you could do it, Pookie!" But see I didn't. I really didn't know for sure that I could. But knowing that you always believed I could do anything I put my mind to doing motivated me. It did.

So I ran the Peachtree Road Race. Sure did! On the 4th of July with Frieda. Yes, I know it's hard to get in that race. And no, I didn't have my act together enough to get a number, but our favorite brother Will let me have his. Woot! So, yep, I ran that race with a big ol' sign that said "WILLIAM" across my waist. Which was actually sort of cool, right?

And guess what else? Crystal and I ran a race on your birthday weekend. Lisa was there and so was Sonya from our chapter. And Sonya and Crystal were all Delta-tastic in their Delta gear which you totally would have loved. Totally. That AKA girl Lisa, of course, came in head-to-toe pink--including a little skirt.  

Mmm hmmm.

We still love her though. Pink get up and all. Hee hee!

But what I really want to tell you about is what I did yesterday morning. . . . .

Yes, Sissy. I made a plan to do the 2013 Army Ten-Miler. Just like you told me I could.

Man. I can't even tell you how amazed I am that I actually went through with it.

So how was it? Well. In a word: Awesome. 

Guess who met me in D.C. to run the race, too?

C.J.'s mommy Davina!  Please tell him that his mommy was getting after it. She sure was.

We both stayed with Shannon and Michelle on the eve of the race--and you know since Shannon has run the ATM a zillion times, he had to start coaching us on all the things we needed to do for race day. He whipped up some kind of electrolyte concoction that Davina and I affectionately referred to as "go-go juice" that we sipped like cocktails all evening long. He made us have another bottle of it that morning, too.

Coach Shannon dropped us off at the corrals and since we had our go-go juice on board, we were ready to rock and roll.

It was kind of cold that morning, but since both of us had our favorite angels on our minds, our warm hearts kept us going. And guess what? Even though Davina came all AKA pink-and-greened up, you'd be proud to know that I was all Delta-tastic since you were my inspiration for making this dream a reality.

People kept saying, "Go Delta girls!" to us and Davina would promptly throw up her little dainty AKA pinky and squeal that squeaky little sound that those girls in that pink-and-green sorority make.

*eye roll*

Hee hee. Juuuust kidding, Davina.

But seriously, though, Davina definitely repped for the AKA girls and, Dee, I want you to know I held it down for us Delta girls. I sure did. Davina is actually Lt. Colonel Davina and her hubby Ced is Lt. Colonel Ced -- so you know they are automatically bad ass runners in that ol' military house of theirs. Yeah, so I couldn't even really hit her with any jokes about being too prissy to run because she's NO JOKE.

(Although now that I'm looking at these photos I'm noticing that she ran with pearl earrings on. Really Lt. Colonel Davina? Hee hee.)

And I think you may remember, but I'm not sure--you know that Davina and our Lisa pledged AKA together at Hampton in 1990? Isn't it crazy how God orchestrates peoples' lives? Who'd have ever thought that my best friend's linesister would marry one of my husband's best friends. . . .and then become like a sister to me in so many ways?

I love those girls. Wrong sorority choice and all. Maybe I can make an exception for the ones who pledged the Gamma Theta chapter at Hampton. Uuuuh. . .okay.

Tee hee hee.

Well the race. It was so great. I felt challenged but definitely good. Just as you suggested, Crystal came through and TOTALLY helped me get ready. She has been my major guru with all sorts of tips and encouragement and such. The go-go juice plus the preparation was a mighty combo. And my Delta-tastic shirt was a super hit. (Purchased after a tip from Crystal, too--go figure.) Dee, people on the streets and behind me kept shouting out:

"GO DEANNA'S SISTER! GO DEANNA'S SISTER!"

The Delta girls I saw on the streets saw that shirt and started oo-ooping SUPER loud Delta calls my way and pumping their fists in the air cheering. Which really hyped me up. Mostly because I knew it would have really hyped YOU up.

And man, on like mile seven this one woman pointed in my face while running next to me and said in this SUPER BOOMING drill sergeant voice:

"RUN STRONG, DEANNA'S SISTER! RUN STRONG FOR DEANNA! COME ON! YOU GOT THIS, BABY! YOU GOT THIS, DEANNA'S SISTER!"

 And when she said that, I immediately started crying but I kept on running and she just gave me two big thumbs up that somehow felt exactly like a big hug. And man, I didn't know that lady from anybody but damn, did I appreciate that. Damn, I did.

I saved her voice to my mental iPod to play back to myself later. I did.

And then this other woman ran up behind me and said, "You went to Tuskegee! You're Deanna's Sister! You're Deanna Draper's sister!!!" And you know what? She didn't even know you personally, but she knew OF you and your legacy from some mutual friends. And she hugged my neck real quick and said she was a proud Tuskegee alum just like us. And that part was cool, too.

Super cool.

I even ran into her at the finish line and we took this picture as proof that Tuskegee was in the house! Running strong. And yet another opportunity for photographic proof of me being Delta-tastic in my shirt.

Ha.

Guess what? I finished with a personal record. Or a "P.R." as all the runny babbits call it. Ha. Look at me using all the lingo of the runny babbit people. Ha ha ha. That's 'cause I'm a runner now.

Mmmm hmmm.

So the P.R., you ask? My shmancy Garmin watch (bought second hand from one of our sorority sisters that Crystal hooked me up with) said I did 10.27 miles in 1:43 minutes. But my official time on the Army Ten-Miler website reported me at like 1:48 minutes. Either way, it's roughly a 10 and 1/2 minute mile average which, for me, is AW-SHUMMMMMM!

So yeah, they gave us these really cool medal-coin-thingies. And just now while writing this to you, I realized that it's in the shape of the Pentagon. Which is kind of rad, right?

So really the Army Ten-Miler weekend was all around rad. It was. Being with Davina. Talking about you and C.J. Reminiscing. Me and Davina crashing a party the night before with Shannon and Michelle. Laughing out loud. Drinking Shannon's go-go juice concoction instead of adult beverages. Seeing Colin and Paige (Shannon and Michelle's kids.) Meeting Davina's sister Toya. Catching up. Cracking Delta/AKA jokes nonstop. Man. All of it. All of it was so, so awesome.

And.

 

The BHE as an Army officer

It might sound corny, but let me just say that running along side America's heroes was surreal. It was. And yes, I meant to say "America's heroes" because it was made very, very clear to me yesterday that this is exactly who our military families are. I read peoples' shirts and saw up close and personal the countless human sacrifices that families just like ours make to protect us. And the strength, sis. It was unreal. And eye-opening for sure. One man had a shirt on with his son's picture. Underneath it said something like:

"Because you can't be here. I run for your life."

And then it had the day he lost his life in combat. Because people -- real effing people -- a whole, whole lot of them, actually, have either lost their lives or gotten seriously injured during these wars. And just like I'm loving you and missing you, there are people feeling the same way about their loved ones or the pre-injury lives they used to have, you know?

Damn.

There were scores of "wounded warriors" out there running strong. Heads up and shoulders back feeding me their DUST, do you hear me?  Wow, Sis. It inspired me in ways I can hardly explain.

Yeah.

On the way out of the race, Davina and I were walking the two mile convoluted trek back to where Michelle was planning to pick us up. So we're just walking and talking and all of a sudden Davina looks like she just saw a ghost. She gasped. "Oh. My. Goodness." She froze in her tracks. She saw an old friend--a soldier from her husband Cedric's batallion during his last deployment to Afghanistan. A youngish brother who could be any of our friends, husbands or brothers. He was being pushed in a wheelchair by a soldier friend as his wife walked beside him holding his prosthetic running blades.

Yep.

All of the color washed out of Davina's face. This was someone who'd fought right beside Ced. Dang. And seeing him now amputated affected her deeply, I could tell. And the resolve in his face. . .it was just. . . man. All I could say about that moment was this:

Damn. Shit just got real.

Man, it did. Davina wasn't the only one affected. I was, too. I couldn't help but think that this man literally lost his legs protecting me and my family. I swear I wanted to run and hug him and every single man or woman who has ever put themselves in harm's way for people they don't even know.

I refrained from saying something awkward like, "Thank you for . . .uhh. . your service." Instead I just shook his hand hard and told him how nice it was to meet him. Because it was nice and I meant that. I shook his lovely wife's hand, too, and told her the same. And when she switched one of those prostheses out of her arm to the other just to reach for my hand, shit got real all over again. I did my best to act regular about that chance encounter but it was hard because honestly I didn't feel regular. I felt conflicted. . . and. . . I don't know. . .just indebted, man.

For real.

You know what, Deanna? Now I know. This race was about way more than me and my personal goal or my pie-in-the-sky bucket list. Way more. It was a celebration of human life. And human sacrifice. And love. And safety. And security. Which is really apropos since I associate all of those things with you, too.

Harry Skyping with Shannon during his YEAR AWAY FROM HIS FAMILY in Baghdad.

Yeah.

On a lighter note--how cute is this? When I got home, Isaiah and Zachary ran and gave me HUGE hugs. Isaiah said, "Mommy, I'm soooo proud of you!" Then he asked to see my medal. And Zachary saw it and immediately asked me if I won. And you know what I told him?

"Yes. Mommy DID win." Because I did.

And that made him and Isaiah just hug me even tighter. Which felt even better than getting that medal.

So yes, Sissy. I did it. I ran strong with you on my mind the whole time -- and I plan to keep on doing just that. And I promise to always dedicate mile three--and the final mile--to you. You bet I will.

Thanks for flying beside me yesterday and always. Guess now I need to revise my Vision Board and dream bigger, right?

Alright, Sis. I promise to write you again after the next race milestone--whatever it may be. (Counting on you to join me for that one, too.)

I love and miss you terribly every single day. We all do.

Hug Grandma and C.J. for us, okay? And hug yourself while you're at it.

In Delta and sisterly love always,

Sissy

P.S. I'm now plotting to get JoLai to run with me in 2014. I've already scouted out the cool races in cool places we'll go to . . . . can you say wine country? Hee hee.

***
Now playing on my mental iPod. . .this video clip of Amber Riley from GLEE covering The Pretender's "I'll Stand By You" -- the song that unexpectedly broke me down in Kroger that day. JoLai saw this and immediately sent it my way since this song makes me think of you. This version broke me ALL THE WAY down all over again. . .but mostly it made me think of you in the most loving, perfect way. And seeing this beautiful, full-figured brown girl singing it with all of her heart to me touches me all the more. Thanks for sending this to me, JoLai.



And this was playing on my mental iPod during the race. . . . . . we RAN that town, baby!