one day in Hanover just isn't enough

Right after we ran 26.2 miles and crossed the finish line, we walked a few more miles. 

Really, we did. 

The security was so tight near the finish we had to walk about a half mile past the finish line just to find a break in the rails and wrap around (waaaaaay around) to head back to our transportation...near Fenway Park. I think we walked close to three miles. And, although we were exhausted, it was probably the best thing we could have done. Because then we sat down and ate some giantly delicious burgers and then piled in Cat's car to sit some more while we drove a few hours back to beautiful New Hampshire. 

Initially we were planning to stay in Hanover for a few days after the race, but our plans changed when we decided to travel abroad instead, so we had about 8 hours to fit everything in. 

The highlight of my day should have been walking around Tuck or lunching at Lou's with some of my ladies or eating delicious Morano Gelato. And those really were high, high up on my list. But the highlight was probably seeing Ryan limp down the Pyfer's front steps. 

You guys, it was hilarious. 

A full flight of stairs just to get to the car. After the extra walking and a nice ice bath I wasn't even really sore at all by this point (my toes were pretty banged up...), but Ryan was another story. I have a video, but I'm smart enough to not post it. 

Really, though, we loved walking around Tuck again, chatting with the ever-adored Sally and fabulous Dean Slaughter and finding Ryan's famous portrait that resides in a classroom hallway (and I love that he just happened to be wearing the same shirt!). Lunch at Lou's with the Hawkins, Ashley and Candace (who left before our picture!!!) was perfect and Gelato with the Kolstes was the icing on the cake. Spring really is beautiful in New Hampshire and I'm so glad we were able to visit, even if it was for less than a day.  

Marathon Monday take 2

The much anticipated Marathon Monday morning arrived after a good night's sleep. Ryan and I donned our running clothes and shoes, race bibs, sunscreen and matching throw-away sweats (added security meant no bags at the starting line for runners). Brad, our host, graciously drove us into Boston, dropping us as close to the finish line as possible. After about a half mile walk, we loaded the buses and drove for what seemed to be far too long, passing the time watching the elite runners on our phones. They would finish before we even started. 

The runner's village was just as I remembered it. We quickly found our teammates, took pictures, and made final preparations before we headed to the start. 

I ran with Elissa for the first 13.5 miles, which really means that Elissa was kind enough to slow her pace and stay with  me. Together we passed mile markers, waved at friends, drank a bit of water and gatorade, pumped our fists for cheers of "Go Purple!" or "You've got this Team Rett!!" and just chatted about life. It was a great reminder - after having had no running partners for almost a year - how nice it is to have someone by your side. 

Our friends and family were in the same place as last year - left side of the road in Wellesley right around the mile 13 marker - so there was no guesswork this time. Knowing exactly when to expect them made the miles leading up to them much more pleasant than last year! As we rounded the bend, I saw them. At least 18 people screaming our names, holding signs for Rett, wearing Leah Beans on their shirts, bearing smiles to lift anyone's spirits. The only difference from last year was the solid row of metal barricades blocking them from the street and me from the sidewalk. I gave each of them a half hug over the bars, was assured Ryan was behind me (!!!) and continued on my way. 

Not a half mile later, my right calf seized. As in, I could not run. I pushed Elissa on her way (she would finish 40 minutes ahead of me!) and I stopped to rub out my leg. Sadly, this continued for the remainder of the race. Run, walk, stop to rub it out, run, walk, stop to rub it out. And I'm here to tell you 13 miles is a long way to run like that. Luckily, there were plenty of friends (and strangers) to cheer me on. From Tuck to Rett families, I had company at miles 16, 18, 19, 23, 24, 25 and more, offering pleasant respite while I coaxed my calf into running again. 

I laughed as I ran behind a rather handsome shirtless man through Wellesley - he was VERY popular with the young ladies from Wellesley College. 

I was once again energized by the hundreds of high fives given at Boston College.

I gladly accepted Vaseline BEFORE it became an emergency this year. 

Ryan caught up with my on Heartbreak Hill. As we reached the top, I told him I wanted a picture. He assured me we weren't quite to the top. I assured him we were. He persisted, so we ran on. I was right, so we have no picture. After about a half mile, I stopped to once again care for my calf and gave Ryan permission to beat me this year (which he did by 8 minutes). 

I passed Team Hoyt and silently thanked them for all they've done to ease some of the burdens of the special needs world. 

I stopped for a moment at Charlesgate East and Commonwealth Avenue, 25.5 miles where they closed the course and my race came to an end last year. 

I ran under the bridge. 

I turned right on Hereford.  

I turned left on Boylston. 

And, with Leah on my mind, I ignored my screaming calf and ran the rest of the way. 

And then I finished. 

I finished for me. And all those miles and frozen eyelashes and hours logged on the treadmill. 

I finished for Leah. And all she does to power through all her days. 

I finished for Rett syndrome. And the $185,000+ raised for research by our team and generous donors. 

I finished for Boston. And everything this marathon represents. 

I finished for good. Because good will always win. 

It was a healing day for Boston. The crowds were bigger (if that is even possible). The cheers were louder. The smiles were wider. The congratulations more abundant, more genuine and more thoughtful. And everyone was kinder. More aware. Perhaps just overall stronger and a little better than they used to be. 

Marathon Monday 2014 is one to be remembered. We came. We ran. And we FINISHED what we started. 

Boston Marathon weekend

Heading back to Boston this year came with a mix of emotions. I was so glad to have the course itself feel familiar - no anxiety about the starting corrals, heartbreak hill or any other landmarks. But my heart was heavy as I wasn't sure what to expect from the unknowns of the day. 

I took my last pre-race run that morning in the perfect weather. I felt like a feather and ran with a smile on my face the entire time. I was ready. 

We arrived in Boston late Friday night after smooth flights from Moline to Chicago and Chicago to NYC...and a nightmarish connection at La Guardia (note: never fly into that airport ever again). 

The hottie in seat 18A was totally checking me out. 

We pounded our burgers at Five Guys (don't judge) and left our sentiments for Boston on the board. 

We were warmly welcomed into the home of two of Ryan's former Tuck classmates and slept soundly. 

Saturday found us at the marathon expo. We grabbed our gear bags and autographed the wall then headed for the finish line only to find that it was closed for the 5k that was finishing up. For one split second, I was annoyed (it was top on my list of things to do while there!). But then I looked up the street to see what was surely the last few stragglers of that morning's race heading down Boylston in wheelchairs and with crutches, their amputated limbs the cause of their slowed paces. My eyes welled with tears as I joined hundreds of fellow onlookers to cheer them to the finish line. 

This is why we came back. To prove we are all stronger, better, braver. To show that good will prevail no matter how long or hard the course. 

We walked beyond the finish line and crossed the street to Old South Church. Where we were gifted hand-made scarves knitted by volunteers located throughout the world. Mine came from a woman in Connecticut. The scarves came with a note that read, 

"Dear Marathon Athletes, 

In this year of rememberance and hope, we wish to wrap you in LOVE and PRAYER by presenting you with a handmade blue and gold scarf. The scarves are a labor of love by artists across the country and beyond, specifically for this year's athletes. May the scarf warm your spirit as you maneuver a new city, as you carry the weight of a somber anniversary year, and as you look down 26.2 miles with resolve."

And as the volunteer wrapped the scarf around my neck, I truly felt wrapped in so much love. Win for the good. 

We continued back up the street and found the pavement outside Marathon Sports, the site of the first explosion last year. The shattered windows had been replaced, the debris swept up. And I had an all-too-clear and close view of the bleachers across the street where Kate and Leah sat waiting with their grandparents just one year ago. I thought about those whose lives were permanently affected by the cowardly acts that day in 2013 and I cried. But only for a moment, because I saw the strength and smiles of some of those individuals still making their way down Boylston and realized they were healing both their bodies and their hearts. The good was still winning. 

We walked in the sunshine to meet up with Team Rett at Jerry Remy's sports bar. Teammates who have laughed with us, complained with us, pushed as and carried us as we trained through the ice and snow for the second year in a row all for the love of Leah and so many others who struggle each day. As each teammate arrived, we cheered and embraced and felt more complete. 

We made our way to Fenway to soak in the sunshine of a perfect spring day (a little too perfect for Ryan without sunscreen) and cheer the Red Sox to a win! 

We gathered again after with more teammates as well as Team Rett organizers from the Rett Syndrome Association of Massachusetts and members of the research team. We were given red ribbons to wear in honor of Maria McTernan, a beautiful Rett mom who was crucial in getting the Team Rett bibs for a few years running and was fighting cancer. She was most definitely in our thoughts as we ran. 

Ryan and I excused ourselves after awhile to meet up with some Tuck friends for dinner. My heart swelled to be in a room with these dear friends again. Friends who experienced Boston with us last year and some who traveled thousands of miles to be with us again this year. 

Easter Sunday came and we were able to spend the day with even more Tuck and New Hampshire friends with a delicious pre-race meal. It was a perfect distraction for my marathon jitters and a perfect ending to a fulfilling weekend. I don't think I stopped smiling all day. 

Easter in Boston

It was a blessing and a curse to have Easter fall on marathon weekend. A blessing because we got to spend it with our New Hampshire family and a curse because we had to spend it away from our own little family! 

Michelle, Andrea and I set out in the morning to go to church, only to find the congregation we had chosen was actually having an area conference that morning and they were meeting in a different building across town. It felt strange to not go to church on Easter Sunday, but we really did try! 

Later in the afternoon, Brennan and Liz were wonderful hosts at Brennan's parents' beautiful home just outside of Boston. We were so excited to see so many of our friends from Tuck all reunited! It actually felt like we were living in Sachem Village again, the community center just turned into a beautiful, spacious home instead! 

I don't have many pictures because my phone was playing DJ for the evening. But, we had an egg hunt for all the kids (who have all grown a foot since I last saw them!), enjoyed some warm rays of sunshine and filled our bellies with some delicious food to get some energy for race day. I had such a great time catching up with so many incredible friends. And being with them again helped to ease some of the butterflies starting to accumulate in my stomach as I anticipated the race. 

I opted to not eat dessert, but instead got to see a picture of my sweet girls in their Easter best. Knowing they were happy and being taken care of was the icing on the cake!

Team Leah Bean

We feel so fortunate this year to have two great friends from New Hampshire running the Boston Marathon to raise funds for Leah, making Team Leah Bean FOUR runners strong! 

For my own sake, I wanted to record some of what they wrote on their fundraising pages in regards to running for Leah and Team Rett.

Elissa was one of the first people I met when we moved to New Hampshire - she went to our church and she was also an instant running partner (a very patient one since she was much faster and stronger on the hills than me!). Elissa is also an incredible pianist and an extremely talented vocalist. That girl's voice can melt butter. She's also a very busy mother of four super cool kids. She is one of the happiest, most helpful and most hopeful women I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. From day one she was interested in learning more about Leah, she included Leah in conversations and activities and she got her own four children personally involved in fundraising for last year's race. Elissa now lives in Idaho and trained through a long and cold winter, sometimes heading out for runs at 4 am so she could be back in time to get her kids off to school.

This is what Elissa had to say on her fundraising page:

"In 2011 I had the privilege of making a new running friend, Maren, and her daughter Leah.  I had never heard of Rett Syndrome before.  I soon learned about the challenges it presents to affected girls and their families.  I listened as Maren told Leah’s story. I watched Maren and her husband Ryan learn to cope as Leah developed symptoms like seizures.  I watched them teach Leah how to communicate with them and the world without the ability to speak.  I admire this family as they, like so many others, encounter and face these challenges with courage, endurance, and hope for a cure.  It is my privilege this year to run the Boston Marathon 2014 in behalf of Team Rett and raise money to fund research for IRSF.  Thank you for your donation!"

Blythe was a classmate of Ryan's at Tuck and eventually one of Leah's horse therapists. Leah just beams when Blythe is around. And I know it's because of the way Blythe treats her. Blythe expects a lot of Leah because she knows Leah's capabilities and potential, and I love that. Some of my favorite memories from New Hampshire are of Leah riding horses with Blythe by her side. Blythe is smart, hard working, compassionate, generous and fun. And as a side note, she had never run more than 3 miles before signing her name on the line and pledging to run a marathon, but she knew she wanted to do it for Leah! Blythe now lives in Colorado and trained through a cold, snowy winter in the mountains, all while juggling some extremely difficult family situations that arose last fall.

This is what Blythe had to say on her fundraising page:

"I began working with disabled children when I was 13, first as a volunteer and then later as a certified instructor in therapeutic horseback riding programs. Through my involvement, I have met hundreds children with a whole range of physical and mental disabilities and been deeply touched by many of them.

"However, despite all my training and experience, I had never even heard of Rett syndrome until I met Ryan Layton, a classmate at the Tuck School of Business, and shortly after his daughter Leah, who was diagnosed with Rett syndrome at 2.5 years old. At the time, I thought I’d seen it all – kids who couldn’t talk to me, kids who wouldn’t acknowledge my existence, kids who were blind, kids with severe physical limitations – and yet I thought I could handle it all. But Leah stopped me cold in my tracks. “Okay, fine, she can’t talk to me – but I’ll bet she can sign! Oh, wait, she can’t use her hands … Oh, but I could use a picture board with her! No, Blythe, she really has very limited even gross motor skills … Wow. How in the world am I going to connect with this little lady??

"Spending time with Leah has taught me more about communication and building connections between human beings than any other person I’ve ever been around. Thanks to the never ending dedication of Ryan and his wife Maren to build a rich, enlivening world for Leah, I’ve had the joy of working with Leah every week in a therapeutic riding program. Through her riding, Leah taught me that you don’t need words or functioning fingers or sometimes even your breath to tell someone you are happy, you’re trying hard, and you love them. All I need to see is how, when I ask Leah to hit the bell to tell her horse to walk on, her face screws up in determination, she holds her breath, we wait, and then … whack goes her hand on the bell! And then, she turns to look me right in the eye with a giant smile on her face saying 'yup, I have Rett syndrome. But it doesn’t matter. Because I hit that bell, and I’m proud of myself.'

"As I’ve gotten to know Leah, and learned more and more about her disorder, I’ve realized that Rett syndrome is as much a hopeful as a scary and difficult disorder. As difficult as it was at first for me to communicate with Leah, I know now that she, and other girls with Rett syndrome, is in there, and that she has a lot to tell me.

"I'm running this marathon because I want to support the research that might one day allow Leah to tell her horse to walk on with words rather than a bell. I love Leah just the way she is, and I have learned so much from her because of who she is now. But she deserves so much more. She deserves the chance to live a full life. She deserves to have the chance to tell us what she thinks, not rely on our guessing skills.

"I'm also running for her parents Maren and Ryan. Despite all the challenges they've faced raising Leah, they are wonderful, loving parents, amazing people, and dear friends. I'm honored to know them and to support them through this run.

"Thank you for your support!"

We couldn't be happier to call Blythe and Elissa our dear friends and are so grateful for their support, dedication and fundraising efforts. 

And, because I know many of you personally donated funds to Team Rett, below is a description of where the money went this year. So thank you!

The Rett Syndrome Association of Massachusetts (RSAM) is thrilled to announce that this year's Boston Marathon Team Rett will be supporting a study out of the lab of Michela Fagiolini at Boston Children's Hospital.  Dr. Fagiolini has been a long-time friend of RSAM and a champion for our girls.  The study is very exciting because it uses a very reliable mouse model with potential drugs in a pathway that has been shown to reverse the symptoms in other Rett models.  This project was recommended to RSAM by the International Rett Syndrome Foundation and has been approved by IRSF's Scientific Advisory Board.  

The Fagiolini laboratory at Boston Children's Hospital (BCH) proposes a preclinical study of two very promising modulators of the NMDA (N-methyl-D-aspartate) receptor, a special type of glutamate receptor in brain cells.  These receptors are critical in synaptic plasticity which is important for learning and memory, and are somewhat impaired in Rett syndrome.  In December 2012, Dr. Michela Fagiolini and colleagues showed that a genetic rescue of an imbalance of NMDA receptor components found in Rett syndrome could improve cellular function and circuitry (Durand et al, Neuron 2012).  Based on this work, Dr. Fagiolini aims to target the NMDA receptor with two drug compounds in a preclinical study in the Rett mouse model.  One is FDA approved ketamine, and the second is a new inhibitor of the NMDA receptor GLYX-13.  Dr. Fagiolini will work together with Dr. Nick Andrews of BCH to evaluate the safety, pharmacokinetic activity and efficacy of each drug.  A second part of this project is to ready a potential clinical trial design should these drugs be deemed safe and efficacious in the animal model.  To this regard, she will collaborate with Dr. Walter Kaufmann, director of the Rett Syndrome Clinic at BCH, to design a clinical trial that will evaluate these NMDAR modulators as potential treatments in girls diagnosed with Rett syndrome.   It is possible that the compounds could quickly move to future human clinical studies as a potential treatment of Rett syndrome, should the preclinical data show positive and robust outcomes.

Boston Stronger

 

One year ago today, I found myself stopped at the corner of Charlesgate East and Commonwealth Avenue in Boston, Massachusetts. Barricaded by yellow tape forbidding me from continuing any farther. After running 25.5 miles, I was 0.7 miles away from crossing the finish line of the Boston Marathon. 

Instead of running down Boylston street, listening to the cheers of the crowd and seeing the glowing faces of my daughters sitting in the front row of the bleachers, I stood exhausted and confused, feeling very unfinished.

Thankfully, the family members and friends who came to support me that day weren't harmed. There are many others who can't say the same. I've gone over so many different scenarios of how the day could have played out. And then I just have to stop myself. Because it doesn't matter what could have happened. What matters most is what actually happened after those tragic events. 

Like I wrote about last year, something changed in Boston that day. Something bigger than the explosions. Something stronger than whatever was in those backpacks. Something so much brighter than the darkness of 2:49 pm.

The people of (and in) Boston pulled together that day - and together, they became stronger than whatever it was that was trying to ruin them. 

Instead of being overwhelmed with sadness or fear, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the kindness of strangers who clothed me with a garbage bag and gave me water from their own apartments. 

Instead of feeling alone, I felt the love of literally hundreds of family members and friends texting and messaging their hope for my safety. A simple Facebook post that read, "Made it to 25.5. With Ryan now. Everyone we know is ok. I'll try to update as we hear more." received more likes and comments than I thought I had friends. And I appreciated every single one.

Instead of crying tears of sadness, I was cried tears of gratitude listening to the voicemail left by my weeping brother and reading the email from a dean at Tuck listing the families and classmates that were in Boston - to support Ryan and me - who were safe and accounted for.  

One year later, we are better. One year later, we are more aware. One year later, we are stronger.  

And one year later, we will finish what we started on April 15, 2013.  

a newfound appreciation...

Today marks six weeks until the 2014 Boston Marathon. And I've had a realization, a new found appreciation, if you will. You see, thanks to Mr. Polar Vortex (x5 now is it?), Iowa has been a frozen tundra for the last few months. Its coldest and snowiest on record, I've heard. And, though I'm no stranger to cold weather running, a few things have to align to allow me to get out the door:

1. Temperatures that don't cause frostbite in less than 5 minutes.
2. Sidewalks not lined with ice, underneath a fresh layer of snow.
3. Wind chills conducive to running with a one year old. 

So far, not even one of these things has happened for me in the past two months. Seriously, the warnings were to not go outside for more than five minutes for risk of getting frostbite. FIVE MINUTES!

As for number two, I actually like running in snow. I find it relatively peaceful and calming. But I like to leave the skating part to hockey players and ice dancers.

Those wintry conditions + dark skies until 7:30am and then again at 4:30 pm = no running sans kids for me = no outdoor runs. I'm still not completely familiar with the roads in my area, so I'm not going to risk running alone in the dark. And pushing a stroller on ice while trying to run is most likely less fun than run/skating on it myself (but in full disclosure, I haven't tried).

The dreadmill and I have become very close in the last few months. Too close, actually. Of my 207 miles of training since December 30th, a measly 54 of them have been outside (and that includes 18 glorious miles in California). For all you number crunchers out there, that's 26%. 

Which leads me to my realization/appreciation. Because the other 74% have been inside on my trusty treadmill, I've had a lot of time to stare off into space at my 1960s wood-paneled basement wall, feeling like a mind-numbed lab rat. Running round and round and round on my rubber wheel for hours at a time.

But that's when it hit me. 

A lab rat! 

Research for Rett syndrome! 

That's what this whole thing is about! 

And honestly, underneath all the moaning and complaining about where I'm running, I am truly grateful for the ability to run at all, and for the opportunity to run for Rett syndrome. For Leah. To raise funds for life-changing research. To finish what we started last year. 

I'm grateful for my treadmill. And I'm grateful for those little rodents. 

And so I run. And run and run and run. Sometimes on a treadmill, sometimes outside. It doesn't really matter. For Boston 2014, I run for Rett. 

Please consider a donation to our 2014 Boston team on behalf of Leah's runners:

Blythe:

http://www.crowdrise.com/RettSyndrome2014BostonMarathon/fundraiser/blythechorn

or Elissa:

http://www.crowdrise.com/RettSyndrome2014BostonMarathon/fundraiser/elissajones