$2,015.20!

We have such generous family and friends. A donation last week brought us up over $2,000! Thank you!

Glutton for Punishment

Well, it didn't last long. I've signed up for the Delaware Marathon, which is only 6 weeks away. I'm not running it as a fundraiser*; this one's for me. I figure I've already got the long distance fitness in me, and the race is less than 20 minutes from my house. Also, my running buddy is running it, so we'll get to do it together. I'm going to wait to set goals to see how I recover from the Shamrock Marathon. So, let the insanity begin again!

* Of course, if you didn't have the chance to donate last time, here's your opportunity!

$1,915.20

Unbelievable, that's all I have to say. In just a few short months, we raised almost $2000 to provide research to help cure and treat NMO. I am grateful for your generous support, both financial and otherwise. I am particularly thankful for Tulaloo, whose promotion brought in over $300. Those of you who took part in that promotion have the opportunity to enjoy some beautiful stationery knowing that they also performed an act of generosity.

While the race is over, the search for better treatment options is far from it. I hope you will remember Guthy-Jackson in your future charitable donations. Don't worry, I plan to run another fundraiser in the future--maybe if I ever qualify for Boston!--so I'll be sure to remind you of the valuable work that the Foundation does for this debilitating disease.

Thank you again for taking part in this fundraiser and for coming along with me on the journey.

On to the Next One

Well, that's it. The race is over, and this is likely the penultimate post. There will probably be one more post with the final fundraising tally. I met my running goal of coming in under 4 hours with a final time of 3:59:04! That's 40 minutes faster than my last marathon, which I ran when I was in my 20s.

The morning started out very cold, and runners shivered an extra 15 minutes at the start line due to traffic problems. The shivering made my muscles tight right at the start. After the first half hour or so, the weather warmed up, and so did I. The sun was shining, and it was a beautiful day. There were high headwinds--about 17 mph--but although they probably slowed me down a bit, I really didn't notice them. I started out a bit too fast; one of my early miles was under 8 minutes! That's probably why my calves cramped up into tight balls about 6 miles in. Somewhere around mile 7, there were rows of uniformed military personnel lining the course and cheering loudly and giving high fives, so that helped me push through the pain. Still, when I saw Josh and Cora between miles 11 and 12--which also happened to be when the 3:40 BQ pace group slipped ahead of me--I told them that I didn't think I was going to finish the race. I was almost in tears, my legs were just not working, and every step took incredible effort and will. Josh ran next to me with the stroller and told me that he knew I could do it, that he'd seen me run through pain like this before, and that he'd see me at the finish line. There is no way I would have finished the race without his pep talk.

I pulled back my pace a bit, and after a few miles, my legs started working better, though the pain had moved from my calves to my knees and quads. I still came in at just about BQ time at the first half, which shattered my PR for a half marathon! Too bad it doesn't count, since it's part of a longer race. The second half was slower, but the crowd support was great, and there were water stands everywhere. The Shamrock Marathon is incredibly well-organized and fun, and I would highly recommend it to any auspicious runners. There were some sections that were a little boring: long straight stretches up steady--though not too steep--inclines with little crowd support, by the fort, for example. But the boardwalk finish and the post-race party on the beach with all you can drink Yuengling and good Irish music more than made up for it!

We had a long drive home (Josh did, that is) after the race, and my legs tightened up again as a result. I could barely move them last night, even having to lift my legs up with my hands to get them into bed. I got a lovely massage this morning and relaxed in the hot tub at the gym, and I've done a little light walking, which helps quite a bit. I'm still wearing my medal, which stops some of the funny looks due to my hobbling.

I thought I would feel disappointed if I didn't BQ, but I don't. I feel proud of my sub-4 hour accomplishment, of course, but more importantly, I feel warm and fuzzy thinking about all of the support so many of you have given me and my mom and the Guthy-Jackson Foundation. Whenever I got tired on the course, I would think of that support, and I would feel the sea breezes lifting me up and pushing me forward. During many of the miles of this marathon, I wondered what I was thinking signing up for it and decided I would never run another run. Already at the finish line, however, I listened to Jay-Z's "On to the Next One," and started plotting my next step on the road to Boston. I'll get there, and I'll probably use my next race not only as another attempt to qualify, but also as another opportunity to raise money for the Foundation. Thank you all so much for your support!

Goals Met, Goals Remaining

The official report from Guthy-Jackson this week is $1520.20. Couple that with almost $300 from Tulaloo, and we sailed right by three different goals ($500, $1000, $1500). There's still a little time, so feel free to donate and bring us even closer to $2000!

I always have a three-tiered goal for races. My minimum goal is to PR, to get a personal best that beats my last marathon time of 4:40 (that's 4 hours, people). My realistic, but challenging goal is to beat 4 hours. Oprah and P Diddy both did it, so why not me? My dream goal, that is not entirely out of reach, is to BQ, which is 3:40. Look for a report in two days!

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield

I recently learned that, according to BBC online, "The last line of Tennyson's monologue Ulysses, 'to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield', will serve as inspirational words for the world's athletes when they come to London for next year's [Olympic] games." As it turns out, that famous line is also the quote on our geocaching stamp. For those of you who aren't high-tech treasure hunters, geocaching involves using a GPS to track down caches that people have hidden. The main point, for us, is the adventure. So the quote, while inspirational, is a bit tongue-in-cheek in the context of geocaching.

In the context of marathon running, however, it is not. Striving and never yielding are critical throughout the training and race. But what about seeking and finding? Because of the taper this week, I've had more time to reflect on just what exactly it is that I am looking for when I strap on my shoes and pound the pavement for several hours every week. Those of you who know I'm an English literature graduate student will probably not be surprised that I turned to the rest of the poem to find an answer. This post is going to be a little dense, but I hope you come along with me on the journey--and maybe even read the whole poem! (For my Victorianist friends, please forgive any misreadings.)

The poem's a dramatic monologue about the last days of the famous Greek hero, Ulysses, known for fighting heroically in battle, encountering wild adventures on the way back to Ithaca, and arriving home after a long and tiring 10-year voyage only to find his wife hotly pursued by several suitors--whom he shoots dead with a bow and arrow before revealing himself to her. Tennyson's telling of this story features Ulysses in his old age, still filled with the desire to travel and to have adventures, despite his failing health and his happy reunion with his wife and son. In the following passage, Ulysses reflects on his desire to explore:

I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things.

Tennyson's portrayal of Ulysses is vexed. Is Ulysses heroic? Or is he foolishly dissatisfied with the life he fought to retrieve? Is his striving meaningless and problematic? Or is his desire to explore the "untravelled world" and to keep moving until the end of his days admirable? Many people choose to read his character in a negative light, or with pity. Yet I can't help but identify with his yearning to fill his life with movement and "new things." Why pause just because you're old, or tired, or sore, or suffering? Why not live every moment beyond the bounds of your everyday "experience"? Why not "shine in use"? I see Ulysses as trying to stave off stagnancy and even death ("eternal silence") with his desire to "move." Ulysses also sees this desire to "work"--even at the "end" of one's energy or life--as "noble":

Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world."

Ulysses's belief that something noble can be done before "the end" inspires me. And the series of sentences that begins, "The long day wanes," is just so beautiful I can't stand it. The day, the moon, and therefore time are all active, while he's forced to be still yet to long for movement, for "a newer world." His will to "seek" is tragic, yet beautiful; sad, yet noble. He is not defined by his suffering or by his stillness, but by his ability to transform them into beauty. He may not be moving in this poem, but he moves us.

The poem ends with an acknowledgment of loss that becomes a swan song; true to his warrior character, he will not go down without a fight. He turns his moment of struggle into a moment of transcendence:

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

The poem does not allow us to pity Ulysses. He is too "strong in will," even though he no longer has the strength to move "earth and heaven." We know that even though he reflects on the past, he does not dwell in it; instead, he recognizes, "that which we are, we are." The strength of his "heroic heart" is the driving force of the poem. He refuses to be defined by the limitations of his body or his age. He is unyielding, unapologetic. He does not pity himself or ask us for pity.

So, I'm not yet old (although my students might beg to differ), and I was never a hero, so what does this poem have to do with this race? I'm inspired by his ability to push beyond his physical limitations, and more, to find beauty in them. Part of the allure of running for me is in taking pleasure in struggle, enjoying the friction of bumping up against my physical limitations, of locating my will as the source of my true strength.

The other half of this equation is my mom. Her "heroic heart" inspires me. She will never "rust unburnished, not to shine in use." She moves others even when she struggles to move herself. And she has always instilled in me the desire to pile life on life, to live fully and meaningfully every day.

Only a few days remain, and I'm fighting off a cold--and, worse, so is Cora. I hope that our strong wills can push aside these cooties. We will not yield!

The Dog Days Are Over

"Run fast for your mother / run fast for your father" is the chorus of Florence and the Machine's hit song "The Dog Days Are Over," a song that a wise and supportive friend suggested that I add to my running playlist. I always think of marathons as two ten mile runs followed by a 10K race, and I've positioned this upbeat song at the very end of the second ten miler, just before I dig in for the final 6.2 miles. For me, the song celebrates the hard work of slogging through the Wall--and of slushing through the winter snow--and it propels me when my legs are tired. Its lyrics remind me of a central source of inspiration for running the marathon: running fast for my mother.

Dog days are typically the hottest days of summer, so metaphorically they signify an unproductive or sluggish time. With spring peeping its daffodil bulbs out of the cold, hard ground, I wonder if we could think of the frozen winter season as inverted "dog days." In the winter, it's easy to cuddle up in a Snuggie and hibernate. This winter, however, I was lucky enough to find a reason to keep moving even on the coldest, wettest days. During my last long run today--a mere 8 miles that I would have struggled to finish last fall--I realized that the dog days are over, and even better, that they weren't really dog days at all.

This insight charged me with renewed energy and helped me run stronger and faster than I had intended to run today. My delight in running also helped me to remember that I'm not just running for my mother. I'm running because I can. I like the way my endorphins pump through me after a run--even a slow or short or bad run. I like feeling my heart and legs grow stronger, and I like having the time to clear my mind and to reflect. Running makes me feel good. And I'm grateful that I have the time and ability to do it.

With only one week and two very short runs to go before the big race, I'm becoming nervous and excited. I'm not sure if I'll accomplish any of my running goals, but I know that's not really why I'm running. I've already experienced the two most important reasons for training for this marathon: the first is my pleasure in the training runs themselves, and the second is exceeding my fundraising goals. With $1,422.20 raised and an additional $200+ raised by Tulaloo, we have left in the dust our latest goal of $1500. From here on out, I won't set any new goals; it's time to taper! But if you want to celebrate my momma and to help find a cure for NMO, there's still time to make a donation to Guthy-Jackson or to buy notecards from Tulaloo.

It's Never Easy

The other day, my husband referred to my 12 mile training run, saying, "Remember how 12 miles used to be really hard, and now it's easy for you!" I quickly responded, "No, it's never easy." Every mile that I run is work, hard work. I'm not a natural runner, no long gazelle legs here. Each mile presents its own challenges, and sometimes a 4 mile run can be harder than a 10 miler.

As I wrap up my training with less than two weeks until the big day, I realize that a big difference (among many quite obvious ones) between the pain and effort of distance running and the struggle with Devic's is that I choose to run, it's good for me even when it hurts, and I can stop at any time. I get to have control over the toll taken on my body, and I get to have rest days. Part of the reason that I run so much is that it helps me in a tiny way understand what my mom is suffering, but of course I know that I can never do that. What I can do, however, is continue to appreciate the work that my body can do each time I push through a stubbornly difficult mile. I can enjoy the feeling of muscles working and heart beating. I can be grateful that I have the choice and the freedom to run. And these thoughts can propel me forward.

We are within $300 of our $1500 goal. Please consider donating to Guthy Jackson, either by a direct donation to them (http://www.guthyjacksonfoundation.org/) or by purchasing notecards at Tulaloo (http://tulaloo.blogspot.com/2011/02/world-we-live-in-devics-disease.html).

Leap of Faith

Today, I ran my last long run before the taper: 20 miles. That's pretty far, and yet race day requires another 6.2 miles. You never run more than 20 miles in most marathon programs. You just have to hope that you can run the extra 10K on race day. For those of you who have run a 10K, you know that it is nothing to sneeze at. So when you put your toes on the start line of the marathon, you’re taking a leap of faith.

In addition to the problem of not running the full distance before the big day, anything can go wrong. Shin splints can take you out at mile 7. A cramp at mile 10. Achilles tendonitis at mile 16. Hitting the wall at 17. The body is a fickle thing that can break down or trip up at any point. So much is out of your control, left to the fates or luck or karma or God.

The problem with knowing your body's limitations is that it can choke you up. Why take even one step if your body might give out halfway through? During every long run (every run, really), I reach a point where I want to stop. Surprisingly, this point often comes not when I'm in severe pain, but when I begin to question what my body--what I--can do. I worry that I won't be able to finish mile 20 if I'm sore at mile 5, or, even more foolishly, I begin to believe that if I might not make my goal pace, I shouldn't run at all. Instead of focusing on what I can do and what I might be able to do, I fret, I worry, I shut down. Usually, it's not the running itself that is the problem, even at mile 18 or 19; it's my mind, my attitude.

I wish I could offer a quick and easy fix for such mental roadblocks, but I don't have one. What keeps me running during these "What if?" moments is, well, the running itself. One foot in front of the other. I can only prove my doubting heart wrong by making my body work, by running when I worry that I can't keep running, which gives me faith that I can meet my goals. When I line up at the start line on race day, I know that I have to have faith in my training and in my body; in the words of another doubter, "the readiness is all." I know that I have to leave the rest of the business up to the luck of race day. If I'm going to get hurt, I'm going to get hurt. If I'm going to hit the wall at mile 17, I'm going to hit the wall. I'll just have to deal with it when it happens, instead of wasting precious energy worrying about what might happen. I know it's easier said than done, but it's the only way for me to move forward when I'm in pain or afraid I might fail.

If you're noticing a pattern in these blogs, you might guess what's about to come next. This is the point in the post where I show how important my mom's influence has been in my life. As you might imagine, I learned this coping mechanism from my mom. Just as she has pity parties, she sometimes lets her fears about future physical damage and suffering interfere with her generally positive attitude. But what is truly remarkable is her ability to live in the now, to face each moment as a moment. This perspective gives her control over her disease, rather than the other way around. She knows that each moment of our lives is a leap of faith. We never know what lurks around the corner; we never know what obstacle will leap into our paths--or which ones we will put there ourselves. So what else is there to do but to fully be in the moment? (And, yes, I just split an infinitive and went all zen in one sentence--it was worth it).

There have been times--recently--that she woke up unable to move, paralyzed by the disease. Of course she panicked and despaired, but then she moved. She focused on her little fingers, willing them to wiggle, and when they did, the rest of her body moved, too.With only three weeks to go and very little distance to run before the big day, I hope to hold on to her example. I hope to keep moving my legs despite any pain or fear of what might happen in the nearly four hours of running. Like her, I hope to have faith in myself and to live in the moment.

Goal!!!

The weekly report is in from Guthy-Jackson. Drumroll, please....

$1,402.20!!!!!

With the over $200 raised by Tulaloo, we have once again met our goal. So the only thing to do now is to raise the goal, right? Can we do $2000? I think so!

It's amazing how generous people can be, but honestly, I'm not surprised. My mom is an amazing woman who has touched many lives. I know that donors are responding to her model of generosity and compassion. Please consider making a donation to this cause if you haven't had a chance to do so. We're only three weeks away from the big day, and my legs are itching to go the distance! I have the last and longest long run on Sunday--20 miles! With your support, those miles are going to fly by. (Do I sound like NPR yet?)

In case you forgot, here's how:

There are two ways to donate to the Foundation. One is through a written check mailed directly to the Foundation at All Greater Good Foundation, 8910 University Center Lane, Suite 725, San Diego, CA, 92122. The other is to visit the website at www.guthyjacksonfoundation.org/about-us/donate/ and to make a donation through PayPal. Be sure to write a note or memo letting them know that the donation is in honor of Patti Lellock, so that we know how much money we have raised. I myself have donated online, and it is easy and secure.

You can also support the cause by purchasing notecards from Tulaloo at http://tulaloo.blogspot.com/2011/02/world-we-live-in-devics-disease.html. All proceeds between now and March 20th will be donated to Guthy-Jackson.

Guest Post: Patti Lellock, my mom

When my delightful, thoughtful daughter asked me to be a 'guest speaker' on her blog, I wasn't sure what I would like to convey to her followers. When I think of NMO - the disease - so many things flood my mind. When I'm feeling well, I'm optimistic and grateful for what this disease has given me this past 3 1/2 years. When I'm not feeling my best, I become frustrated, saddened and at times even angry. It's been quite a roller coaster ride - the only difference is, this ride doesn't end.

I could share with you all of the positive things that having a crazy, unpredictable, incurable, life-threatening disease brings. It has made me stronger, more grateful, compassionate, spiritual, aware, and appreciative of everything and everyone in my life. And it truly has. Or, I could tell you about all of the negatives. The many long days and nights I spend alone with my pain. The questions and anger when I make it through one battle after another only to be knocked down once again making it more difficult each time to rise. The thoughts of despair not being in control of my life. The frustrations of my body not able to do what my mind still can. The sadness knowing I most likely will leave this life missing so much of my children and granddaughter's lives.

But instead I've decided what I would like to implore to you all is this - touch your arms, your legs. Appreciate what they do for you every single day. Take time to do what you can, what you love, while you can. Someday might not be soon enough.Teach yourself to fully embrace your being and truly appreciate it. Open your eyes wide so that you can see the miracles that surround you. Show your love often and unabashedly to those you love. As difficult and unpleasant as it may be - realize that there will most certainly be physical obstacles one day in your life - this realization will make you thankful for what your body is now and when that day comes you won't have to wish you would have appreciated it. Look directly into the eyes and smile at those on your path that need canes, walkers, wheelchairs and know that they are people just like you - they just need a little help to move through their lives. Do what you can for others with unconditional love - that's what life is all about. In the end - it honestly doesn't matter what you have materially - only what you have in your heart and your legacy you leave behind.

I would ask you to visit the Guthy-Jackson site and read about the remarkable couple, Victoria Jackson and Bill Guthy, and the amazing strides they have taken to not only find a cure for their daughter, but for all of us suffering from this devastating disease. Although at times I have myself the best pity parties, complete with cake, I feel blessed that I was stricken with NMO at a time in which the disease is more understood, when there are improved treatments provided and testing to establish a positive diagnosis. It's a very rare disease with so many in the medical community that don't even know it exists. Yet I had an angel with me when I became blind to guide me to someone who did know and treated me quickly so that my vision was restored. I've also lived a full life and have seen my children become loving, compassionate adults striving to make a difference in the world. NMO knows no age boundaries. There are young children and young adults also suffering, fighting and ultimately losing their battle to this dreadful disease.

I am so blessed to have been held up and held onto through this struggle with my caring, supportive and compassionate family and friends. With my deepest appreciation to Jacy (I've gotten through many painful medical procedures remembering the words she told me one day long ago in the summer rain - you can do anything for 15 minutes); to Slade, my philosophical son who provides me with bright outlooks to the painful questions I present to him; to my husband, Rod, who rides the roller coaster night and day with me; and to all of you who have lovingly supported me and now Jacy and the NMO community - thank you.

Love, Patti

Stronger

I don't usually post two entries in one day, but my mom's post is such an inspiration that I couldn't resist sharing my refreshed spirit. The pity party is over. Motivated by mom and by the support of my friend, Jess, whose stationery company will donate all proceeds on its notecards to Guthy-Jackson (see below), I have renewed energy and commitment. I ran 5 miles at just about BQ goal pace today (8:23 per mile). I've also decided that I will still try to qualify at Steamtown in October, even though the qualifying time will be harder. If I don't make it, well, as my mom told me while I was whining about my last roadblock, "Just think how much you've already accomplished while going for your goal." It's kind of embarrassing to admit that I whine about such minor setbacks to my mom, who has her own much more challenging struggles to face. Her encouraging response is further evidence of her strength of character and her concern for others, despite her own problems.

Not that she doesn't have her own well-deserved pity parties (as she admits in her post). She recently had yet another setback in her goal to go back to work, which of course was a disappointment. Despite her frustration, she told me, "I'm going to fill my mind with art instead of sorrow." This poetic sentiment reflects a recurring theme in my mom's life; it seems as though she always bounces back from setbacks by turning to art. For example, she takes these amazing photographs, tweaks them with digital imaging software, and writes beautiful poetry to accompany them. Then, she shares her art with others. Like an alchemist, she transmutes the dark matter of pain and suffering into gold, making the world more lovely. She draws upon her suffering to be stronger, and the work she creates inspires others to live better.

Like my mom's art, music has the ability to move me and to make me move. A good beat or a well-timed lyric helps me overcome the desire to quit or to slow down. One of my favorite lines is from Kanye West's "Stronger": "Now that that don't kill me...Can only make me stronger." The driving beat coupled with the motivational words forms a catalyst (two chemical metaphors in one post!) that propels me forward even in my worst running moments. For that reason, I strategically placed it in my marathon playlist at mile 16, the point where I know I tend to falter. It is at our lowest points that we most need inspiration, and art and music are wonderful sources of it.

So this week, I'm calling for support in the form of art. I encourage you to support our cause in one (or more!) of the following ways:

1. Submit a motivational song that I can add to my marathon day playlist. I will think of you when I hear the song and draw on your positive energy when I'm slogging through the miles.

2. Purchase some beautiful notecards from http://www.tulaloo.blogspot.com. She's donating the proceeds of notecards sales between now and March 20th to the Guthy-Jackson Foundation in honor of my mom. She's an amazing artist and an even better friend. She's already raised over $180 in just a day of the promotion--please contribute!

3. Create some art of your own! Write a poem, take a photo, paint, sing a song, whatever inspires you.

Support System

I've been having a pity party for myself all week. The Boston Athletic Association has made major revisions to its qualifying times and registration procedures--RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF MY TRAINING CYCLE! While I wasn't expecting to BQ (shorthand for Boston Qualify) at the Shamrock Marathon, I was hoping to do it by the Steamtown Marathon in October. The new procedures let the fastest runners sign up first, which means that even if I BQ, since I would only do so by a slender margin, I would likely not be able to register. They also changed the qualifying times to take effect in September, which interferes with my hopes of qualifying in October. When I heard about these changes, I felt as though the wind was knocked out of my sails. As a result, my running motivation flagged. I got slower and even missed a 5-miler. I also started wondering if maybe my goal to BQ was too ambitious in the first place.

Fortunately, I have an incredible support system to help me deal with setbacks. Friends and family gave me great advice, such as asking me why I wanted to run in the first place. My husband made me breakfast in bed and let me sleep in. My mom told me that I'm allowed to have a pity party for one day before coming up with a plan B. My support system helped give me perspective and to keep me moving despite the minor hurdle. And it didn't hurt that we have raised nearly $1200 in the first two weeks of fundraising! The success of this fundraiser is testament to the amazing family friends that we have in our lives.

Having a support system is especially important for someone suffering for a chronic illness. My setback pales in comparison with the ones that my mom faces. The love and support that you all share by being a part of this help make me feel stronger, and I know that they help her, too.

Break on Through

It's common to reach a point in a long run where a runner feels as though she has "hit the wall," as though it is impossible to keep running. I tend to reach that point around mile 16 or 17, which is bad news, of course, for someone who plans to run for another 9 or 10 miles! Every runner needs some trick or motivation to break through this wall, and I'm no different.

One thing that helps is realizing that the wall is imaginary. I know that physically I am capable of moving my legs for many miles past the moment I first feel weak. Sure, it's much harder than the first part of the run; my hips and knees ache, my mind is foggy, and my body lacks fuel. But I know that I can will myself to go on despite feeling depleted and conquered.

During my 19 miles today, I had a much more moving source of inspiration. The Guthy Jackson Foundation sent me a weekly report yesterday of how much we have raised to support NMO research. My goal for the entire fundraising effort was $500. In only one week, we broke through our goal, nearly doubling it: $912.20. Breaking through an imaginary wall is far less challenging with such an overflow of support.

One thing that my mom has taught me is never to settle, always to aim high. Her experience with NMO is no different; she's a daily lesson in breaking through challenges that are far more painful and difficult than running a few extra miles. With that in mind, I've decided to raise my fundraising goal from $500 to $1500. If you haven't already had the chance, please help us meet this new challenge by making a donation to the Guthy Jackson Foundation in honor of Patti Lellock.

In case you've forgotten, here's the information on how to do that: There are two ways to donate to the Foundation. One is through a written check mailed directly to the Foundation at All Greater Good Foundation, 8910 University Center Lane, Suite 725, San Diego, CA, 92122. The other is to visit the website at www.guthyjacksonfoundation.org/about-us/donate/ and to make a donation through PayPal. Be sure to write a note or memo letting them know that the donation is in honor of Patti Lellock, so that we know how much money we have raised. I myself have donated online, and it is easy and secure.

Please share the information with your friends and family members!

Winter Running in a College Town

Running in the winter can be a drag. Slush slows you down. Ice slips you up. Sometimes your path is completely blocked by snow. And it's cold. Some days are so cold that walking out the door is nearly impossible. The only thing that keeps you going on those deep winter days is knowing how easy it would be to just give up if you don't go outside and move your feet. It would be so easy to just snuggle into your warm bed, curl up, and forget about the whole thing.

But, for me, winter has its rewards, too. First, I feel so tough running on days when no one in their right mind is going outside. On those days, only a handful of hardcore runners are bundled up and hitting the trails or streets, and that makes me feel really strong. Further, the cold struggles of winter can make days like today seem heavenly: 38 degrees and sunny, with the steady drip and crackle of melting snow and ice. My run today felt downright balmy, and it turned around my cranky, sluggish mood into something nearing transcendence. The harshness of winter helps me appreciate my endurance, while at the same time giving me the perspective to appreciate the beauty of a sunny day. Winter running builds strength and promises renewal.

Running in a college town heightens this hope for refreshment and rejuvenation. Today, I ran past the freshmen dorms, where students were toting their freshly washed clothing and lovingly packed bags of food back to their rooms for the start of a new semester. For them, the spring semester is about to begin, with its promise of a fresh start, of a new chance to push through their challenges and to meet new successes.

Winter can be hard on anyone. Its oppression can seem never-ending, as though the cold will chill your bones, the grey skies will stifle your spirit, and the diminished daylight will sap your energy. It can make you want to quit, to hide, to hibernate. While pushing past such desires can be difficult, the rewards are immense. I imagine that even those who suffer a chronic disease such as NMO feel as though it's always winter, but I have hope that there can be days like today for them, for my mama. A lift in the cold, a promise of renewed strength, and a moment to appreciate the beauty of a sunny day.

The Long Run

Though I am inspired by their lyrics, "Well, we're scared, but we ain't shakin' / Kinda bent, but we ain't breakin' / in the long run," this is not about The Eagles. It is about my mom and running.

A few months ago, I decided to run another marathon. I've run two marathons, but never very fast. After having a child, the running bug bit again, so I decided to try to qualify for Boston in a marathon this year. To this end, I signed up for the Shamrock Marathon in Virginia Beach in March and started running. A lot.

Running long distances requires the ability to put up with pain and discomfort. Long runs essentially inflict damage on your body in order to teach it how to heal itself and to become stronger. Long runs require pushing myself farther than I thought possible.

Marathon training also gives me a lot of time to think. While I was out in the icy, snowy weather pounding the pavement, I started thinking about why I run. I do enjoy it, of course, and the health benefits are obvious. But if those were the only reasons, then I would run shorter distances. There's something about a long run that makes me recognize both how fragile and how strong my body is. There's something that helps me understand how hard it is to move forward when times are hard.

Which brings me to my mom. My mother has a very rare disease called NMO, or Devic's Disease. NMO is an autoimmune neurological disorder that attacks the myelin sheaths around the optic nerves and spinal cord. My mom learned that she had NMO shortly after completely losing her sight and suffering from partial paralysis. She was blind and had trouble walking for a very long time. She has since recovered much of her sight and ability to walk, but NMO is a nasty disease. The treatments are often just as hard on her as the disease itself. At this point, there is no known cure and since it is such a newly identified disease (for years, doctors thought it was a type of MS), the treatment options are limited. Much more research needs to be done.

She struggles every day. Her body fights against her over the simplest tasks. While the effects of NMO are nasty, this isn't a blog about a disease. Instead, I want to celebrate my mom's strength, grace, and dignity. My mom is such a positive person, and her fortitude and stubbornness in the face of this disease have amazed me. She is my inspiration.

While it's in no way a fair comparison, my mom's disease has helped me to become a better runner. Her model has taught me to be strong even when my body is depleted, to be grateful that my body can carry me such far distances, and to be positive when I run into physical and emotional obstacles along the way. I'd like to do some small thing to give back to her.

While trying to qualify for Boston is an important personal goal, I wanted to set another goal for this race that went beyond me and my love of running. By race day on March 20, I want to raise at least $500 to support research for prevention, clinical treatment programs, and a potential cure for NMO. I also want to raise awareness about this disease.

I hope that you will help me reach this goal by donating to the Guthy-Jackson Foundation. If you make a donation through their site, 100% of your donation goes directly to NMO research and is tax deductible. The Guthy-Jackson Foundation does not allocate any donated monies to administrative support of the Foundation.

There are two ways to donate to the Foundation. One is through a written check mailed directly to the Foundation at All Greater Good Foundation, 8910 University Center Lane, Suite 725, San Diego, CA, 92122. The other is to visit the website at www.guthyjacksonfoundation.org/about-us/donate/ and to make a donation through PayPal. Be sure to write a note or memo letting them know that the donation is in honor of Patti Lellock, so that we know how much money we have raised. I myself have donated online, and it is easy and secure.

If it's within your means, please donate soon, so that I can reach my goal of $500 before the race. I will update you about my training and my fundraising progress on this blog. Any amount helps. Some people might choose to make a donation of so many dollars per mile (that's 26.2!). Please consider donating! Thank you!