5th Annual Love Runs through 5K for Sandy Hook

Five years ago I gathered a group of friends and friends of friends and ran my first “virtual” race; it was for Sandy Hook. The race, for me, was more than a 5K, so I developed a race course that was longer in length, and more meaningful in my heart. I mapped a course that would take us passed six of the nine elementary schools in my town. The other three just added too much mileage for my legs. At each school I would touch the flagpole (almost like a check in point). When I think of Newtown I think of many things, but first and foremost I think about the flagpole in the town’s center, in the middle of the road. So, this is how I would connect my running with the town. At the last school a friend showed support by leaving a case of water by the flagpole and some encouraging words in chalk. 

That was five years ago. This year I set out to run it again, virtually. I mapped a course that was shorter than before (my running has lapsed this year); it would take me by four elementary schools and my son’s middle school. I sent a quieter word out and two friends said they would try to join me. Yesterday at 8:00 I set out to run 9+ miles solo. At first I dwelled on doing it alone; I felt I needed the company from my friends to get me through the distance. Just as I was getting into a running groove, realizing each school was less than 2.5 miles apart, I saw a pair of Mallard ducks up ahead on the sidewalk. Seeing ducks in yards in my neighborhood is not unheard of, for the past two years I have surprisingly had a duck build a nest in my yard, but it is certainly still rare! Two ducks getting ready to cross the street in front of a city bus! I ran behind them encouraging them to waddle faster…the bus driver saw me and slowed down and smiled, I waved, then crossed the street again continuing on my run. DUCKS! I have seen turtles, rabbits, deer, even cows on my runs before, but never ducks! This was all the encouragement I needed. (check out this story from February 2013: http://www.nbcconnecticut.com/on-air/as-seen-on/Ducks-Of-Sandy-Hook_Hartford.html) 

During my run I thought about kids; my kids, the kids of Sandy Hook, all the kids I have been lucky enough to cross paths with. At State Road I thought about a student I met with weekly during my school counseling internship — I ran into her just the other week, six years later, she recognized me, said hello and we caught up a bit….it made my day that she acknowledged me, as she has grown into a beautiful young lady, but I don’t think I would have recognized her otherwise.

I thought about Newtown; the flagpole, the Edmund Town Hall where you can watch discount movies at a great price, eating ice cream at Ferris Creamery with my kids this past summer, eating many meals at the Exit 10 Diner (I miss diners! There’s nothing quite like them in the Midwest), and eating bagels from Bagel Delight.

At Longfellow Middle I thought not only about my son and his friends, teachers and classmates, but of the year I spent there also doing a school counseling internship. I thought about how it is the last building in town to become a secured building following the Sandy Hook tragedy. It’s doors are locked, but it isn’t until this summer that a new entrance will be built, flowing all foot traffic through the main office, like the other schools. When Longfellow was built 70+ years ago it was also used as a bomb shelter, the entrance wall is simply too thick to reconstruct, so a new main entrance will be added on to the existing main office just to the side of the main entrance. Post “Sandy Hook” our schools’ doors began being locked, lock down drills have become a part of our children’s lives and gun laws have created more headlines in our newspapers.

At Spence Elementary I thought of all the wonderful students and staff I just spent three months with while covering a maternity leave for the school counselor. There are wonderful, passionate and caring teachers throughout our school district, but to see it day in and day out for three months how students bond with their teachers, a fourth grader who truly wishes he still had his second grade teacher, the student who gets and gives hugs daily to teachers throughout the building and throughout his day; this all made me think of the teachers and staff whose lives were taken that cold day in December 2012.

At the flagpole in front of Hintgen Elementary I thought about my school counseling internship there and how when I was there my son was just in kindergarten (now in 7th grade). I thought about how I learned the power of using a puppet to connect with children, even if you’re not a ventriloquist. Kids at Head Start who I work with today and use a puppet with, may not always remember me or my name, but they remember my puppet and what “he” said. 

My knee began to ache so I took a walking break as I continued to Southern Bluffs, my kids’ elementary school and where I regularly sub. I eventually ran some more before walking the remaining 3+ miles. This virtual run of mine wasn’t so much about running as it was the cause and the kids. Southern Bluffs is on the edge of town and my course took me on a busy road and passed Wal-Mart where a man was standing at the entrance near the traffic light with a cardboard sign that said he was down on his luck and has two daughters. I was prepared to give him a smile and say hello as I ran past. He saw me coming and what he did next surprised me and made me smile. He pressed the walk button. It was such a simple gesture; such a polite, kind and thoughtful gesture……he saw what I needed, a walk sign so I didn’t have to stop running. As I ran by I said thank you and told him that I hoped that today was the day it all changed for him. Had I felt like I had more time or had I not been so focused on what I was doing, maybe I would have thought to ask him what he needed at this moment our lives were crossing. 

As I touched the flagpole at Southern Bluffs, there was no bottled water or notes on the ground or people around. I thought about how in the end all you have is yourself and how I enjoyed my solo run; I cheered myself on, I had deep thoughts in my mind, and thought about how five years ago my daughter was in kindergarten. I remembered picking her and her brother (then in third grade) up from school, all while my heart was breaking for those parents so near to my hometowns of Brookfield and Danbury, CT. My heart thanks them for turning this tragedy into a motto of “Love Runs Through” — kindness should be spread throughout all of our every days. 

Love Runs Through, and yesterday it ran through me as I ran through town.

A Piece of My Thoughts About Newtown, Connecticut

Between the summer of 1975 and the summer of 1993, Connecticut was the only place I knew as home. Between two towns I went to school while being raised by two New York City bred parents. Some kids took advantage of the rivers and hiking available around the state. I, on the other hand, most vividly remember visiting family in New York State. I lived in the part of the state that I, and others, joked wouldn’t exist without New York. I had very few friends that were actually born in Connecticut, and was always surprised when I met someone who was. We were all the offspring of New York parents who moved to the country looking for a quieter life for their children. If you know me or follow my posts you already know when I graduated high school I flew far and fast. I could go on and on about my CT childhood, but instead I provide this to you solely as background information.

For two years I grew up down the street from Newtown, albeit a long street, but I was only a street away.

Like residents of Newtown, CT I do not like the idea of Newtown becoming a Columbine or Jonesboro. A town synonymous with a school shooting. I have “liked” a group on Facebook called “We Are Newtown” that in addition to providing information about the horrific events and ways people around the world can help they post pictures of what “their Newtown” really is. I was a street away from a town that offered (and still does) $2 movies at The Edmond Town Hall and a flagpole situated right in the middle of an intersection. Directions in or through Newtown always contained the words “at the flagpole….” It was also the home of Fairfield Hills, a mental health hospital, that was the occasional butt of teenage insults.

The media has coined Newtown a quaint New England town. Yes, it has white clapboard buildings and is as picturesque as any small New England town, but the word “small” is such a relative term. Yes, it’s smaller than New York City where many of these reporters are based out of, but it makes my dad, who lives in a border town, “laugh” in confusion. Many towns in Connecticut are much smaller than Newtown, but to those out of the state; yes, Newtown is small.  Heck the entire state of Connecticut is small! The town is not small in the same way a Midwestern town is small. I doubt that everyone knows everybody and it is not small in the sense of farmland and country folk that rarely leave town. It is small in the sense that there are only two (that I can think of) shopping centers in town. It is small in that I bet everyone knows somebody who knows somebody. But, in that area of Connecticut a large part of the population live in large tree surrounded homes that they are proud of and able to afford as a result of commuting on average of an hour to work every day. 

Every time I visit my dad, about once a year, visiting my dear friend takes me traveling through Newtown, or I eat at the diner in Newtown, or I stop in town to buy bagels at the nearest bagel shop to his house. I have memories in Newtown, they are not many, they do not consist of long visits, but they are there in my mind vividly enough that the thought of the events that took place at Sandy Hook Elementary School make my stomach turn just a little bit more than the random person in my Wisconsin small city. My heart aches as a mom, for all the parents, and my heart aches as a school counselor for all of the children. My heart aches because I have physically been in the town. I cannot describe this ache as anything more than my feet have been there so I ache; in the same way my heart ached when the F5 tornado ravaged Tuscaloosa, Alabama; the place I called home after I moved away from “small town” Connecticut.

For my running friends across the nation there is a memorial 5K run in Newtown, Connecticut tentatively set for March 23, 2013. They plan to have a virtual component to it and whether I am here or there on that day, my daughter’s 6 ½ half-birthday, I will run!

Every Race has a Story Part IVb: July: New Milford (CT) Village Fair Days 5K

After running the Bellin, my husband and I talked about how great it was to run in a new and different town. We had a 2 ½ week road trip planned for the end of July to visit our families back East. We agreed it would be great if we could find a race near one of our parents’ houses. I quickly discovered New Milford Village Fair Days 5K (and 8-mile, but we weren’t doing that!). I never ran when I lived in CT and this race was in a town I was familiar which excited me. I loved the idea of running in CT, my childhood state. I also began wishing we had started this “tradition” of running while visiting family earlier in life. We had someone to stay and cheer with the kids and running is a great release for stress that inevitably builds up during family visits.

I registered for the race and it quickly became part of the cover plan for my Dad’s surprise party for later that day as well. It was how I would keep track of him for the morning and make sure he was where he was suppose to be at noon. This minor detail may have in fact help me run a little faster.

There was no informative website surrounding this race, I had no clue what the course was like. I only knew that Connecticut is hilly, so I began mentally preparing myself for something worse than the American Cancer Society race I had run in 2010. During the race someone asked me, “Do we turn on blah blah street” I didn’t know the answer but a fellow runner answered, “Yes.” As soon as I turned on blah blah street I knew the missing detail of the answer. This street was not just a hill, but a looong, gradual hill. Thankfully when I think of Connecticut I also think of trees and there was shade on the uphill.

Some races have misters, not like mistresses, but like water, that you run through. This race had runners finishing under a hose power shower, it was great. Along with the typical bananas and oranges there were also popsicles…amazingly perfect!

After the race I was talking with a man who shared with me that the 5K was harder than the first 6 miles of the 8 mile! Something to think about in the future. I did also learn that the 8 mile is the third oldest running race in CT.

Accidents Happen

During the excitement of visiting relatives for the past two weeks my daughter has had a few bathroom accidents. With each one she is disappointed in herself and I react automatically by saying, “accidents happen”. And they do. They happen all the time. Playing with water guns the other day my son accidentally got “shot” in his eye. My husband often accidentally buys the wrong item at the grocery store. I accidentally do so many things I can’t think of just one to write in this space.

But today I heard about another accident that happened and it’s harder to swallow the words, accidents happen this time. Through my CT “hometown” newspaper’s website I learned that my dear friend’s father died in a one-car accident last night. Twenty-five years I have known her, therefore him too. I have not seen her in a year, as for the last time I saw her father I’m not sure exactly when it was. What I do know is that twenty-five years is a long time and there were many sleepovers at her house, there were many hours spent in her dad’s presence, and there were millions of smiles across his face…many frowns too, especially when we were loudly laughing and he would have preferred us to be asleep. He was an extremely hardworker and an individualist who had strong beliefs and lived the way that he was spiritually moved to live. I admire him for the path he created for himself and I wish for all the strength that he had to be passed on to his wife, two daughters, and soon to be born grandson.  

I just spent a week at my own Dad’s house and I am grateful for the timing. I love you, Dad and seeing how happily you thoroughly enjoyed your surprise birthday party last weekend will be forever ingrained in my memory.

My Hometown

Definition of hometown: “the town where one was born or grew up, or the town of one’s present fixed residence.”

I’ve been away from home for 11 days on a road trip that spans a number of states. I am currently in my hometown, I think. See, I have lived in WI for 11 ½ years now in the same town. My husband says we can just round up, which I suppose is true since we don’t plan on moving before January. OK, with that let me start over. I’ve lived in one town in WI for 12 years. This is the longest I’ve lived in one town in my life. It’s also the town I consider to be home. I often wonder if this is because of the stage of life I am in. I am involved in the community, which makes it easier for me to feel a part of the community rather than apart from it. My kids were both born here and it’s their hometown so maybe that also has something to do with it.

** Tangent ** about the towns I’ve lived in, in my life. Born in New York. A few months shy of my 2^nd birthday I moved to CT. Ten years later I moved one town away, but it felt more like a different state. Nearly six years later I moved to Alabama for college. I spent one summer back in CT, but I always think back on my six years in AL and begin counting from my first year of college. By the time my high school graduation came around I had already mentally checked out of CT. After AL, came WI. 

So, here I am back in CT. A state that feels foreign to me.

I had a bizarre experience the other day when I took my family to Mystic Aquarium. I know I’ve been there before, in fact I recall being there with my husband and son 5 or 6 years ago…I think. Even with that aside I went with my mom years ago (code for I have no idea how far back). Nothing about the drive, the entrance to the aquarium or the aquarium itself looked familiar. For all I know I was at an aquarium in Rhode Island the other day. The entire visit I was consumed with the thought that I was in a sci-fi movie where my memory was erased and replaced with a microchip that was wearing off. I enjoyed watching my kids have fun and enjoyed moments, but the bizarreness of the whole thing was reignited in every area of the aquarium.

Growing up in CT meant traveling to NY to visit family and as I got older, to go out dancing. In NY you only had to be 18 to get into clubs, in CT the age was 21. I have few memories of “exploring” CT as a kid. There are, however, two things that ignite “hometown” feelings. One is something I’ve mentioned before; food! The other came to me while driving across New York State a few days ago. I love the rocks. I see them as slate, which reminds me of the foyer in my first CT house. It’s hard, dark, granite type rock crumbles WI limestone in an instant.

I am long past driving by the houses I grew up in; the truth is I was long past that within two years of moving away. I have no desire to take my kids on a tour of where I went to school. I did drive by my junior high school that is now a middle school, but it wasn’t out of nostalgia, it was just the most direct back road route from Carvel. It really does all come back to food when I’m here.

But I will gain 5 pounds in a week and I have been collecting rocks to bring back (I’m driving after all) from my Dad’s property aka “woods”. I do enjoy the windy, hilly, woods-lined streets of CT. I enjoy them so much it bothers me a little that my husband and kids all get carsick while riding on them.

For me, my hometown is “the town of one’s present fixed residence” or is it? I’ll be back in my hometown in another week and when someone new asks me where I’m from I’ll say, “CT” and then I’ll think about the food and the slate, rather than places and things.  Yet, whenever I visit CT it’s never long enough.

Where’s your hometown and what comes to mind when you think about it?