Welcome to Lesson 2! (Email #1)

Dear Class,

Are you ready for another week of reading and writing? I sure hope so. I went through the lesson as a student and didn't have any technological problems, so I hope and pray that is the case for you as well. If you do encounter snags, please contact the OSC (Online Support Center) at 208-496-1800 for technological help. You may notify me as well, but the OSC is trained to help you with technology problems--I'm here to help you with class content and your writing.

 

I suggest that you jump into our class after reading this email so you can get started and have a sense for what is expected this week.

 

I wanted to close by sharing with you that I had a beautiful experience in my marathon on Saturday. This brief account is my attempt at applying the descriptive lessons from Lesson 2:

 

My goal for my very first marathon was to run it in fewer than 5 hours. My vision (which, in my mission language meant the goal I REALLY wanted, but probably wouldn't get) was to run the race in under 4 hours and 22 minutes, because this is how long it would take to run the race if I ran it with sub-10 mile splits. Starting last week, I even had a dream: I dreamed of running the race in fewer than 4 hours and 4 minutes because that is how fast my sister ran her marathon a few years ago. I was hesitant to share that dream with anyone but my husband because it seemed like such an impossible task. Who was I to target such a low time for a first marathon? Would it depress me if I couldn't realize that dream?

 

As I neared race day, advice scrolled across my mind from runners who had completed marathons before:

 

Bekah Saltsman, a friend from college: "Don't set a time goal for your first race. Know that your body will shut down and you'll have to find new muscles to serve you to finish. Having a fast half marathon doesn't mean your marathon will be fast."

 

A famous marathoner whose name I forget, who tipped his hat to slow marathoners, saying: "I can't imagine running for 5 or 6 hours."

 

Katie Belnap, a fellow Beehive advisor," Oh, I ran my marathon in 4 hours. You'll be fine. You can do that."

 

Katie Slade, a friend at the Apple Athletic Club, where I work in the childcare facility to pay for my gym membership, "I ran mine in 4:25 injured. You'll do great!"

 

Steve Gudmanson, my neighbor, who ran and won marathons for years, "You will hit the wall. Plan on it. Just relax your muscles and run through it. After your first marathon, you are going to be so tough."

 

With all these numbers, warnings, and encouraging words in mind, I also debated the right socks to wear, when to shave my legs, whether to bring hairspray to my mom's house, when to take Ibuprofen, how many Powergels to tuck into my sports bra at the start of my race, when to drink them, how many trips to take to the port-a-potty, when to eat, when to take off my sweats, when to take off my long sleeve t-shirt, and how to put my time chip in my laces in such a way that it wouldn't fall off or impede my running.

 

I was bussed up the canyon at 4:45 AM on race day, making friends with my seat-mate, Eva. We saw all the runners huddled by campfires for warmth, and joined a small huddle so we could be closer to the fire. We joked that we'd make ourselves smell "better" by campfires than we would by racing, and we stood in the gusts of smoke because the crowds were smaller there. It was eyelid-closed black that morning, except by the camp fires, and veteran runners of the Provo City Marathon assured us that it was warmer than last year.

 

After long huddled conversations, jogging to the finish line and back, 3 trips to the port-a-potty with new friends, and stripping off my sweats but NOT my long-sleeve t-shirt in the warm, inviting bus, I had 3 minutes to go before start time. I tucked my clothes in my backpack, froze out to the start line, made my way to the 9:09 pacing team, and was surprised to hear the starting gun go off. I uttered a quick prayer with a new friend, Lynnette, and off I flew to chase my goal, vision, and dream. . .

 

My story was getting too long! I'll have to finish it on my blog so I don't put you to sleep or waste your precious time. In brief, I am so thrilled to report that I achieved my goal, my vision, and my dream during my race. I blew kisses to my family as I made it to the finish line in 3 hours, 42 minutes, 41 seconds.

 

I'll never forget the overwhelming joy and wonder I felt as I saw my cheering family and knew I had done my very best in this race. My very best exceeded my wildest hopes, and I felt gratitude for the strength I never knew I had.

 

Love,

Sister Bowen