Guest Post from Erika: Shannon is my hero (again)

So, today I ran for the first time since my half marathon in November 2010. Ok, I *jogged*. It was PAINFUL. My body went through all the stage of grief. First, there was denial. My body said: "Are you KIDDING me? What the heck are you trying to do???" I felt like I had new, flabby appendages hanging off of my body in my (formerly wee) bust area, my stomach, and yes, I daresay, my buttocks. Where did this stuff come from??? Oh yes, pregnancy.

Once I got used to the new appendages flopping along beside me, my body moved on to anger. "HEY, what about that sore throat you've been complaining about for weeks now? Feel that? And remember that ear ache? POP. How does THAT feel?" And that was just the first four minutes.

When I hit the Nevada Street hill, my body started hard into the Bargaining phase. I quickly agreed to shorten my optimistic three and a half mile run to Twenty Minutes No Matter How Far I Go. This shot me straight through depression into the "acceptance" phase, and I started to get into the swing of things and even feel pretty good. But I sure was happy to see Grove Street in the distance, just as my knees were starting to complain and a cramp started forming in my abdomen. 20:15. Not bad for a first try.

Well, we all have to start somewhere. And I would immediately quit except that I have promised my dear friend Shannon that I will run the San Diego half marathon with her on June 3. Before I met Shannon, I had run exactly one mile. I remember it well. In high school, I agreed to join my (incredibly fit) father on a jog around our block, which was approximately one mile. I made it, but when I got home I collapsed on the kitchen floor and swore off running for ever more.

Fast forward a few years to when the luck of the draw landed me in a dorm room with a Rower (Shannon). Our shared alarm clock went off most mornings at 4:30am and after a while I capitulated and joined the crew team since I was waking up anyway. But the thing about the crew team was that you had to run. A lot.

After the first excruciating group run, I decided crew just wasn't for me. But Shannon encouraged me to stick with it for a few weeks longer. She would take me out on training runs, patiently running with me at my incredibly slow pace for a mile or two, and then take off on her own (much faster, much longer) run. If it hadn't been for Shannon, I never would have become a runner, I am certain. And I certainly never would have won the national rowing championships with her a few years later. Or moved to Buffalo, New York. But that's another story.

Thank you, Shannon, for helping me be a better person, for reminding me that my kids will benefit from a healthy, happy mommy, and for being the best friend and college roommate a girl could EVER hope for.