Enough is Enough!

I am so over the fact that women cannot run without fear.  I am so beyond mad that when I go out and run, I have to be on constant guard.  I am angry that I often choose to run on my treadmill because I'm not in the mood to deal with jerks and possible assaulters and killers. Why do I have to forgo what I love (running outside) because a terrible person can't properly live in society??

When I awoke yesterday morning, I felt the need and desire to get outside in fresh air and hit the pavement.  I mentally prepared my course so that I would be in areas where cars and people are.  I felt a tad fearful, but, honestly, I am so tired of living scared.  I no longer want to be held back by someone else's choices.  

Two of my children were at our home and before I left, I texted them my exact route and time I would be gone.  I placed my Air Pods in and chose what I would listen to as I ran. I was conscience about making sure my podcast was low enough that I could easily hear my surroundings.  I am not one to get lost in what I am listening to, as I am constantly monitoring my surroundings to make certain I am safe.

My route was to take me around a set of neighborhoods.  It's almost as if I was going to run the shape of a box to get back to my home.  The route has nice sidewalks that are wide enough and visible to anyone driving by.  I liked this because no one could be hiding in the trees without being seen.

I set off for my run and fell quickly into my groove.  I felt nice and safe because many cars were driving by.  I was finally starting to settle in and feeling safe.  I could tell this was the case because my breathing was even and my shoulders were nice and relaxed.

As I turned onto the next street, I heard a truck honk.  I immediately turned and looked.  It was a large white truck and as it drove by, the driver stared at me like I was his candy.  Gross, I thought!  However, there were other cars around so I didn't feel alarmed.  I did feel very annoyed, though.  Why do some men think it's okay to do this to women?!

I continued to run, albeit less relaxed. About 5-7 minutes later, a black truck pulled up next to me and was driving very slowly.  The passenger turned and was hanging halfway out the passenger side window.  He was whistling and saying raunchy things.  I immediately scanned the area and there were no cars in sight.  There was a golf course to my right and not a golfer was on the green.  I felt fear overtake me.  Tears began to fill my eyes and then, in an instant, I was filled with anger and rage.  I raised my right arm in the air and shot the finger at them. I then threw both hands in the air and screamed as loudly as I could.  This must have startled the men because they sped off.  

There was a side street up ahead and I feared they would be parked on it and grab me as I ran by.  I contemplated calling my son to come pick me up.  I chose not to because I'm just so stinkin' tired of women going through this.  Thankfully, cars, once again, began driving by in both directions.

I continued on my run with a force of anger so strong.  I am angry that I can't run without this happening.  I am filled with rage at the thought of women being assaulted, kidnapped, and murdered just because some insane being thinks it's his right.

Leave us the hell alone! I am on a mission to bring awareness to this. Enough is enough!  Women should be afforded our right to go into the world and run safely and without incident.  We shouldn't have to choose a treadmill because we are scared for our lives. Our families shouldn't have to worry every time we leave for a run. My children have asked me not to run outside anymore because they are so afraid someone will harm, or worse yet, kill their mama.  

To bring awareness to this epidemic, I will be writing a post each week to honor a woman who has lost her life while innocently out running.  My goal is to bring awareness to what women face each time they step out of the door with laced up shoes and a heart ready to get some milage in.  Within time, I may turn it into a podcast.

I also have an idea of a product that will help protect women and allow them to get help quickly. I am researching how to approach companies and get their backing. I am talking with an attorney on the best way to get this accomplished.

Please stay vigilant while running. Let others know your routes and estimated time you will return home.  Carry mace and keep your music low.

Lastly, please don't think it won't ever happen to you. I am a 52 year old woman. Deranged men don't care your age, stature, weight, busyness of the route you are on, etc.  

Love to you all and happy AND safe running!

💗,

Marci

Leave Us Alone

The world and running community have been awakened, once again, to the dangers of running for women.  I'm sure men, to some extent, encounter certain harassment as well.  My son has been honked at, yelled at, and had the middle finger aggressively shown to him while minding his business on a run.  My other son has had pancakes thrown at him (not going to lie-that one made us giggle a bit.  If you knew my son, you'd laugh too. He could write a book on things that he has done and things that have happened to him.)  I'm a woman.  I know the fears in my head, the precautions I must take before and during each run, and how frustrating it is.  I write this as a woman.

Prior to each run, I stop and listen to how I'm feeling.  Am I feeling uneasy about this outdoor run?  Will there be enough people around during my run?  Is the area I'm running populated?  Eight times out of ten I end up choosing my treadmill.  My choice is not because I choose to live in fear.  It's not because I am choosing to allow what if's to rule my life.  My choice is because I know fear.  

Many, if not most of us, have a story to share of something extremely scary that has happened to us while on a run.  Often, we don't share with anyone besides our family.  

I want to finally share my story.  It's time we speak up and out for the dangers we face on a daily basis.  I have held this one in because I wanted to forget it.  It scared the living daylights out of me and, honestly, I feel shaky now just thinking of the story.

It was December of 2022.  The day was a Saturday and my husband, daughter, and youngest son were home.  I noticed it was a beautiful day out and was perfect weather for a run.  It was my long run day and I mapped out the course I would take to get in my 8-9 miles.  I was so happy!  I chose my favorite running skirt, my blue long sleeve running shirt, and, of course, my Hoka Mach 5's.  I was bouncing around the house as I pulled up my playlist and sucked down some electrolytes.  

Prior to leaving, I let my family know my route in case I needed them.  This was routine in case I fell, felt sick, or just needed them.  I said goodbye and headed out my back door.  As I was in the backyard, I turned on my Garmin watch and waited for the GPS to load.  I turned on my running playlist and began singing as I did my warm-ups.  I made sure the music was not too loud so I could hear my surroundings.

Once my GPS was loaded and my legs and body were warmed up, I stepped out of my backyard onto my driveway.  I'm certain I even had a smile on my face, as I love running in beautiful weather and my playlist was already pumping me up.

As I got to the street, I began my run.  It felt good right away.  It didn't take long to get into my groove.  Everything felt right that day.  My body felt loose, my feet were hitting the ground at a good pace, and my breathing was steady.  Dare I say it felt perfect?

That day my run was taking me through our neighborhood and across an intersection into the other side of our neighborhood. Once on the other side of the neighborhood, there is a bridge going over a ditch that leads to a trail behind the local elementary school and high school.  The trail ultimately leads to a small college campus.  I always loved to run through the campus, as it is surrounded by trees and I often get glimpses and close up views of the beautiful deer that inhabit the area. 

As I ran along the backside of the trail, the deer were out in full force across the waterway.  I marveled at their beauty and we watched each other as I ran.  Pure joy! I was definitely in my happy place.

The end of the trail runs into the college campus that I had planned to run around.  There is a big loop that circles the buildings.  One end of the loop empties onto a main street that I usually run down to add more mileage.  

As I got on the back of the loop, I heard a car behind me.  I turned to look and saw a black car coming up behind me.  I didn't think anything of it, as I assumed it would pass me as is always the case.  It did not pass me and came up right behind me and followed me.  It wasn't close enough that I felt it was going to hit me.  However, it was definitely close enough that it was obvious that it was following me.  

My adrenaline kicked in full force.  I scanned the area and it was just me and the car.  I turned to look at the car again so I could take in what the car looked like and see the driver and possible passengers.  The windows were tinted so dark that I couldn't even make out the driver, let alone determine if anyone else was in the car. 

To my left sat a very large parking lot with a building at the far end.  I decided to turn into the parking lot.  I needed to move away from the car and see if I truly was being followed.  As soon as I turned into the parking lot, the car turned in and continued to follow right behind me.  I quickly pulled  my phone from my arm band and called my husband.  I was sprinting as fast as I could go.  I turned to look at the car again.  I wanted them to see I was on the phone and get the license plate number.

I was in a state of panic. And, my husband didn't answer his phone.  As I was pushing my phone screen to call my daughter, the car slowly turned and drove away.  My daughter answered as I was running into the building.  The first set of doors opened, but the set that gave entrance to the building were locked.  I crouched down and tried to tell my daughter what was happening.  She was screaming for my husband.  As I was on the phone with my daughter, my husband ran out the door to come get me.  

While waiting for my husband, I noticed the car come back and drive very slowly through the parking lot.  It drove right up to the building and it was obvious the driver was looking for me.  By this point, I was on the phone with my husband.  I was crying hysterically.

It took about 7 minutes for my husband to arrive.  It felt like an hour.  He told me he sped and ran red lights.  By the time he arrived, the car was gone.  I ran to my husband's car and was a mess.  I was shaking and struggled to speak.  He drove around a bit to see if he could see the car.  Honestly, I just wanted to get home to safety.

The car was nowhere to be found.

When I got home, I immediately called the police.  They were so kind and helpful.  They called me back a few times to ask for more details and gave me updates.  I was surprised, but kind of not, to learn that I was not the first person to report suspicious activity involving this car.  No one, including me, had obtained a license plate number.  The car did not have a plate on the front bumper.

Many people, including my family, have asked why I didn't call the police first.  I truly don't know.  I was in a state of shock and in full fledge panic mode.  All I wanted was my family, my rocks, my security.

I no longer run that route.  I have had to give up the beauty of the route, the peaceful deer, and the serenity it gave me because some people are cruel and evil.  I now run most runs on my treadmill.  On the days I go out, I stay in very populated areas.  This makes me sad.  However, I'd rather be safe.

So many people have asked what can be done to correct this.  

We can carry mace, alarms, or run with a group.  I read an article recently that claimed that 1% of women are now carrying guns when they run.  In full disclosure, my husband really wants me to be a part of the 1%.  He, too, felt fear that day.  He was angry and was ready to fight.  I'm not ready to be a gun toting runner...yet.  

Sadly, the violence will never completely end. We live in a world that houses evil people.  However, I think by bringing awareness to the problem we can stand together.  

Here are ways I believe speaking up and standing together can help:

1. Awareness is power.  The more we voice what we have experienced, the more aware other runners will be.  

2. We will be more conscious about looking out for one another. If something seems suspicious, check it out.  Don't think it will make you look silly if all is well.  It's better to look silly and have everyone safe.

3. ALWAYS tell someone your route and the time you will return.  If you do not return safely, the authorities can be notified immediately.  

In order to spread awareness and honor those who have been harmed or killed while running, I am going to start posting a case about one runner each week.  I have thought about turning it into a Podcast.  If you guys are like me, I'd rather listen to a case.  I am 100% open to feedback and case suggestions.

Click here to read the article I referenced above.

Regardless of where I have to run, I will never stop. It's my joy and I refuse to let that be stolen from me!

Please stay safe and aware!  Happy running!

💗,

Marci

Thankful Thursday

Spring like weather

Fresh air

Warm coffee

Mornings outside

Writing in my prayer journal

Laughter with my family

The love of my husband

Our home

Our pups

Walking our pups

Long runs

Short runs

 My treadmill

Sweet apples

Squirrels running along our back fence

Downy fabric softener

Basketball games

Friends at basketball games

Matcha tea

Energy

The love of good friends

💗,

Marci

To Shame is to Bully and Bullies are Weak

Over the past few weeks, I have noticed a number of people shaming others for the body they occupy, running paces, race times, food intake, and on and on.  I am baffled by the rudeness and boldness and have thoughts on this.  

  

1.  Why do some people feel the need to shame others?  I am flabbergasted by the audacity of an imperfect human (newsflash-we are all imperfect!) to critique and criticize another human.  This treatment of others is rooted in pride.  When someone feels the need to point out what they view as not good enough, reveals so much about the commenter.  Bottom line...insecure people put others down to build themselves up.

2.  Hiding behind a screen to spat ugliness is weak.  When I was a kid and someone would say something unkind behind another's back, it often made it's way to the person being talked about.  The popular saying of the time was, "Say it to my face!"  As you can imagine, when confronted, the naysayer usually denied the comment or apologized.  Not many people like confrontation and it was often avoided.  So many people find it easy to type a comment and then walk away with puffed up pride and a false sense of importance.  This is for the people who find it necessary to type unsolicited rude advice and comments - would you say it to their faces?

3.  A person's words reveal a mountain about them, but nothing about the receiver of the words.  When my children were growing up and someone would say something that was uncalled for to them, I would always remind them that words reveal the character of the talker, not the one being talked to.  What we say reveals a great deal about our character.  As my dad would often say to me, "Consider the source."

At some point in time, we will all be on the receiving end of ugliness.  In truth, it can feel like a sucker punch.  For a moment or two, we question if the words are truth.  The old chant, "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me" is hogwash.  Words hurt.  Period.  

When this happens, it's okay to acknowledge the pain but then get back up and wipe yourself off.  Don't give the person the job of determining your worth and character.  That position is closed!  Look around you and take in all the good in your life.  Notice your loved ones and friends.  Be thankful for all your body can, and does do for you.  Remind yourself that ugly words define the other person, not you.  Know that it must stink to live inside that person's head.  To be so crass and rude must be a miserable way to live.

Lastly, I refer to those who find it necessary to make rude comments as having the bulldog mentality. (Disclaimer - I am a HUGE dog lover! In no way am I being rude about a particular breed of dog.  Give me any dog any day and you'll see a happy girl!)  This means they are so weak inside they must portray themselves as bigger than they feel.  Putting others down and pursuing dominance is a classic sign of insecurity. Don't allow someone's insecurity to shadow, or worse yet, steal your security.  

I'll end with the saying we've all heard since we were innocently toddling around:

Love well!

Marci

The Peaks & Valleys of a Relationship with Food

I have struggled with an eating disorder for as long as I can remember.  It was something I hid for a long time.  Now, I am open and honest about it in the hopes of helping others.  It stinks to feel like we are alone in our struggles.  Knowing that others can relate and offer support is huge.  Sharing my story makes me vulnerable, but I've learned that I'm okay with that.  If I can help one person, then sharing is worth it.

My eating disorder took hold of me in college.  I became obsessed with my weight and clothes size.  I carried around a huge bag of insecurity that reared its raging ugly head in the form of unworthy issues.  I felt so out of control of myself and emotions.

I suffered greatly from abandonment and rejection issues.  I grew up with various forms of abuse that wreaked havoc on my mental status.  Mental health was not discussed then and, in fact, was a taboo subject.  If one struggled, they were looked upon as weak.  As you can imagine, this compounded my mental health.  I felt like such a failure in so many ways.  My biological father wanted nothing to do with me, my brother and I were separated at a very young age, I was never a priority for my mother, I was always told my name was mud spelled backwards, and I had fallen into the act of giving my body to anyone who claimed they loved me.  

It's funny, not ha-ha funny, but peculiar funny - those I went to school with never guessed how sad I often was.  I always put on a shiny, happy face and pretended all was great.  I was so afraid people would truly know me and think the same way about me as my parents did.  

In college, I began to skip meals.  I stocked up on oranges and popcorn and tried to satisfy my need for nourishment with these items.  I was always left feeling like a failure because at the end of the day, I was ravishingly hungry and would eat all I could get my hands on.

My worth was tied to my outer appearance.  If I was thin, I felt in control.  I couldn't control my feelings of self-loathing, but I could control my food intake and body.  In truth, it felt good to be super thin.  In my skewed thinking, I was in control of myself finally.  I received many comments and compliments on my thin physique.  

To deny oneself the fuel of nourishment only fuels an eating disorder. 

At a college graduation party, there was a scrapbook of my school days.  There were many pictures of me in my dance team uniforms.  A now family member was looking through the scrapbook and commented on a particular picture.  I can clearly see the picture in my head as I type this.  I was standing with two other dance team members in a navy blue outfit.  It had bright pink sequins and I had a bright pink sequins barrette in my hair.   The now family member pointed at my hips and thighs in the picture and responded, "You were heavy here!  You've lost weight and look so much better now."  Ouch.  I still get a physical response when I think upon this.  I felt like crawling under the carpet and hiding away.

That's the thing with commenting on a person's body.  One thinks they are giving a compliment but, in truth, they are connecting worth to bodies.  Sadly, it happens all the time.  It's perfectly fine to comment on an outfit, hairstyle, etc.  But when comments are made regarding a person's size, it's harmful.  

Think about this comment that is made often to people - "You look so good!  Have you lost weight?"  It implies that one looked bad before.  That certainly is usually not the intent of the one making the comment, but that is often how it makes the receiver feel.

Once graduating college, I worked in a law firm in the heart of downtown Houston.  I met a woman there who I became friends with.  She was older than me, but we really connected.  We ate lunch together, worked out at a local gym during our lunch break on certain days, went out with our significant others on weekends, and so on.  She taught me the art of taking laxatives.  I could eat what I wanted and get rid of it the next day.  I began to lose more weight with this practice and, sadly, I loved it.  I got down to 104 pounds.  

I continued this practice into my marriage.  I kept it from my husband, as I was embarrassed to admit it and, well, embarrassed of discussing bathroom practices.  Within a few months of being married, I became pregnant.  Upon finding out I was pregnant, I gave up the art of using laxatives.  I turned to writing down every single thing I put into my mouth.  I logged protein intake, calcium intake, and so on.  I was determined to not gain too much weight.

In the end, I gained 27 pounds.  I was secretly mad at myself because my limit had been 25 pounds.

When our child was 3 months old, he was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect.  Guilt. Shame.  I was certain it was because I took laxatives prior to knowing I was pregnant.  I felt that I had depleted my body of nutrients and, thus, my baby wasn't able to grow properly.  I spoke with his cardiologist about my concerns and he tried to reassure me that it was not my fault.  He tried to convince me that it is not known why some defects occur, but it surely wasn't anything I did.  I didn't believe him.  I felt like such a failure as a mother.

My eating disorder continued on and I found myself thinking about food intake all day.  I counted calories in my head and jabbed my body all day.  This continued for many years.  I never returned to laxatives.  I began denying myself food and stepping on the scale often throughout the day.  I chastised myself for every pound shown on the scale.

Sadly, I began noticing that I had unintentionally exposed my daughter to my disorder.  My comments about my food intake, feeling fat, etc. had attached themselves to her.  She began mimicking her mother.  I was horrified.  Her adoption of my painfully unhealthy mindset and practices was gut wrenching.  In those moments, I saw the truth of my thinking and the effects it had on those around me.

I began to have open conversations with her about my skewed thinking and acknowledged my eating disorder.  I started reading all I could about body image issues, eating disorders, and childhood abuse.  I needed healing, not just for myself, but for my children.  They needed a healthy mama who would teach them appropriate relationships with eating and mindset.  

It was difficult.  In truth, I still struggle.  Prior to eating something, I often find myself thinking about it.  It is a never ending struggle, but one I'm willing to fight for myself, my family, and those around me.  

I have learned, and am learning, that what we put in our bodies is fuel.  It sustains us, gives us energy, helps our minds stay focused, and provides us with essential nutrients for healing and health.  

As I contemplated sharing my story, I rolled around the idea of sharing what I've learned about calories, protein, my plant based diet, and proper consumption practices.  I decided not to add those things.  I don't want eating to be legalistic for anyone.  Our bodies are amazing machines.  They tell us what they need.  When we are hungry, we should eat.  When we crave it, eat it.  Denying ourselves food is not healthy or vital to sustaining a healthy body and mind.

I have learned many important things along my journey.  One is so near to my heart that I find it of the utmost importance to share.

What we see on social media, magazines, and TV is not real.  People often use filters and photoshop pictures.  We can't compare and seek to be like fake pictures.  It will never happen.  I am 51, approaching 52, and I have wisdom lines (wrinkles!) on my face, cellulite on parts of my legs, sagging skin in areas that used to be so tight.  And that is okay!!  

I have found that true health and beauty comes from within.  When our minds are healthy and void of worldly clutter and comparison, we feel good.  

Moving my body helps my mindset.  Running has taught me that I am strong.  It has also taught me to eat.  If I don't eat properly, I don't run properly.  Running is not about the look of my body, but the feel of my heart and mind.  It brings me peace and joy.  

If you struggle with food, please reach out to me or someone.  You are not alone.  I will gladly help and talk with anyone who needs guidance, encouragement, or an ear to vent to.  

With great love and admiration for all my fellow sojourners,

Marci

If You Want To Run, Run Girl!

photo from r4ucoaching on Instagram

As I entered my 20's, I envied those who ran.  The Houston Marathon always ignited my coveters heart, but I thought there was no way I could ever run.  I thought only those deemed athletic could hit the pavement. Those who ran never got winded or tired, or so my young brain believed. 

I wrongly believed that runners ran fast always, ran without breathing hard, and had rock solid bodies with no wiggles anywhere.

Gracious, was I wrong!!  And thank goodness I was!  

Like Forest Gump, and I'm not even fudging, I just began running one day. It was a January evening in 2012.

I remember smiling as I ran. I felt so free and alive.  I had never felt that energy before!  During that first run, I fell into my own steps and pace.  I didn't care what pace or milage others ran.  My runs were about me and my body.  

I truly fell in love with it and quickly signed up for an upcoming half marathon.  I drove to a running store and got fitted for a pair of good running shoes.  I ran every chance I got.  

I don't remember the runs being about the look of my body at all.  I just remember the freedom each run gave me.  Honestly, I was proud of myself.  I was doing something I never thought I could do.  I dared to quietly call myself a runner and it felt amazing!

On the day of the half marathon, I cried as I quietly drove to the race.  My family was meeting me there so I had time to reflect upon my efforts, my mindset, and my heart.  I was proud of my strength and endurance.  I was in awe that I was about to run a half marathon.

I was nothing special, no better than anyone else.  I was just a girl with a dream.  A girl who had fallen head over heels in mad love with lacing up my running shoes and hitting the pavement.

Many people have said the following to me and it hurts my heart... 

I'm not a runner (meaning the person speaking feels they can't be a runner)

Anyone with a dream, can be a runner.

How to become a runner in 2 easy steps:

1. Go outside and put one foot in front of the other.

2. Believe in yourself.

That's it!  When you shut down the negative self talk and believe in yourself, you can truly do it.  No one begins running by running 5 miles, 3 miles, or even 1 mile.  We all start by putting one foot in front of the other.  Start slowly and alternate walking with running.  

Everyday offers progress.  See the growth with each step, with each breath, and with each smile.  Notice as it becomes easier and you are able to run farther.  It is a high like no other.

Running myths:

1. You have to be fast

2. You have to run daily

3. Every single run has to be a good one

4. There is a particular runner's body (SO WRONG!!!!)

5. You have to run a particular milage to be considered a runner

6. You have to sign up and run races

The morale of this whole thing is don't let negative world talk or self talk stop you from following your dream.  I am a 51 year old girl who laced up some shoes and took a chance on running.  There has not been a single day that I am sorry I took that first step.  There have been days, however, that I clearly and hurtfully regret not starting sooner.  I let the lies in my head hold me back.  

Let today be the day you take the first step.  You've got this.

If you would like someone to cheer you on and help you, please let me know.  My cheerleading is free.  I am not trying to gain anything for my bank account.  I'm just a girl who desires to help other girls find the thrills of running.  If you are in the Houston area, I will even meet up with you and offer a running partner.

Running joyfully,

Marci