Today call me racy
Today call me racy because oh boy, am I ever! (As long as you don’t confuse the word racy with sexy. Anyone who says “Oh boy!” is permanently banned from that club. So I’ve heard.)
No, I’m talking about actual races. Which I run sometimes. On days when I’ve lost my mind or am desperately searching for it.
However, I must dispel any misconceptions that arise from the fact that I occasionally put on a sports bra and trot around a bit. Because the truth of the matter is this:
I’m not sporty. At all.
What I am is pathologically uncompetitive. I feel sorry for the losing team or participant in any event. I cheer shamelessly for the underdog and turn off the television without watching post-game interviews in either locker room.
And this is not new behavior, I’ll admit.
As a child I begged to be scorekeeper to avoid playing kickball. I faced P.E. with pit-in-the-stomach dread, preferring piano and oil painting lessons where no one was the winner.
I skipped team sports in high school and took roles in the spring musical. Who needs soccer, volleyball or softball? I had The Fantastiks, Fiddler on the Roof and Oliver!
Instead of competing in college, I read books and wrote awful poetry; I composed earnest, unrequited love songs. I studiously circumvented situations where my relative success or failure affected anyone but me. I never wanted to strike out; to miss the free throw; to trip over Charlie Brown’s un-kickable football.
As I grew older, I began to care less about embarrassing myself and more about taking on challenges. And yet. I still feared letting anyone down. I remained steadfastly opposed to trying new things.
Until.
Three years ago, when I turned 40. I decided to train for a marathon (Oh boy!) and write a book about the experience. I knew exactly nothing about running distances or the publishing industry. At all.
Nevertheless.
I ran and wrote and kept both endeavors a secret from everyone besides my husband. Hiding my plans from friends and family was possibly the biggest challenge for me because, even on good days, I can’t shut up. At all.
But I loved having this “thing I was doing” that was mine. That no one could take from me.
It was an insane leap of faith.
(And if you haven’t taken one yet, find whatever cliff you’ve always eyed and jump immediately. Please.)
Within six months, I’d completed a “beginners” marathon-training program and had wrapped up all but the final chapter of My Midlife Marathon and Other Crises of Turning Forty. I planned to finish both projects at the 31st annual Napa Valley Marathon. (Because wine tasting is never wrong. Right?)
On March 1st 2009, I awoke in the dark to discover it was raining. The wineries were lovely dark and deep, but I had 26.2 miles to go before I’d sleep. I was wet, cold, tired. And yet.
I was also a runner. And a writer. My own brand of winner. At last.
So I slogged along the Silverado Trail for many hours while I composed in my head the final pages of my book. Having spent forty years eschewing physical and mental pressure, I had tackled both simultaneously. I felt alive; exhausted, soaked and joyful beyond words.
As I crossed the finish line, I couldn’t stop laughing. And crying. I may also have wet my pants but it was too damp to tell for sure.
And that’s when I saw her. Heading toward the finishers corral. A tiny girl in Hello Kitty rain boots pausing to peer up at me.
“Is your mother running the race?” I asked.
“Yes.” She blinked raindrops off her lashes. “I think she’s going to win.”
I nodded at her and her brother in his cherry red fire-fighter’s slicker. Both of them, along with their father, smiled as they trekked up the muddy path to cheer for the only racer who mattered to them. At all.
The little boy looked over his shoulder and shouted, “My mommy’s going to win any minute now!”
I called back, “She’s already won!”
To them. To me. To no one at all.
Because of course.
She’d already won.
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67 Comments to Today call me racy
by angela
On October 12, 2011 at 7:10 am
I don’t even know what to say in this little comment box, because this is one of the most amazing posts I’ve ever read. You are me. But braver and doing things I only think about doing. (And faster, because Cheryl told me!)
You won.
And I feel like I won, because I got to read about it.
by KarenG
On October 12, 2011 at 7:22 am
Julie, this was an amazing post! I can’t believe I’ve been missing your awesomeness on this blog. Will subscribe now. And can I just say that I absolutely love the photo of your room with the manuscript papers piled up. It gives me chills and makes me want to WRITE.
beautiful beautiful story! Thank you for sharing it.
by stupidgirl45
On October 12, 2011 at 7:23 am
Awesome awesome post. Love it! And love to you also – it’s been so long, I’ve been so slack. How *are* you? x
by JButt
On October 12, 2011 at 7:24 am
I love this. It’s so inspiring it’s sexy. Racy. Whatever, golly. (Golly? I’m also banned from The Club.)
When can we read this memoir and/or watch you run 26.2 miles?
by Amanda Austin
On October 12, 2011 at 7:32 am
This is so beautiful. Two accomplishments in one, and your biggest accomplishments meeting you at the finish line. I could almost picture it, feel the cold, damp weather. Perfect.
by Nancy C
On October 12, 2011 at 7:50 am
This is beyond awesome. Inspiring. Hard-earned.
I love it.
by John
On October 12, 2011 at 7:51 am
You know – I keep saying “my love for Julie can’t grow any more” and then I read something like this . . . I need to remind myself that there are no bounds to some things.
So, yeah, this was gorgeous. And so true . . . so, so true.
I was cheering you from really, really far away last Sunday – hope you’ll do the same this Sunday for me
And wine tasting is never, ever, ever wrong. I’ll run the Napa Valley marathon some day.
by Bridget
On October 12, 2011 at 7:53 am
You’re inspiring and wonderful. Thanks for being brave for me.
by Poppy
On October 12, 2011 at 8:06 am
So when does the book come out? I’d buy it. Also, the next time I wet my pants in a race I’m going to call out your name.
by Missy @ Wonder, Friend
On October 12, 2011 at 8:07 am
I have been known to cry at the end of games. The looks of disappointment on the losing players faces just kills me.
Speaking of crying, you’ve done it again. This: “…as they trekked up the muddy path to cheer for the only racer who mattered to them. At all.
The little boy looked over his shoulder and shouted, “My mommy’s going to win any minute now!”
I called back, “She’s already won!”
Lovely.
I’m not all that sporty, either, or racy (either version). But I have run one marathon, and this spring I did my first tri. The kids in your post remind me of my boys, who cheer with abandon every time I leave for training, much less race. My five year old pointed out that “a lot of people crossed the line before you, so I don’t think you won, but you still did a really good job, Mommy.” What a kid. Love.
by KLZ
On October 12, 2011 at 8:15 am
You got to do oil painting classes in school? I’m so jealous that I’m feeling competitive about it.
by liz
On October 12, 2011 at 8:19 am
I love your entire idea! Running and writing and telling a tale that’s pure awesome.
And? I’d trot along with you any day.
by Jessie
On October 12, 2011 at 8:21 am
Love this!!! You are an awesome writer, I can picture everything you are talking about like I’ve been there before. Can’t wait to read your book!
by MommaKiss
On October 12, 2011 at 8:24 am
How flippin’ awesome!! I love the medals displayed. I have a few from 5k races and then there was that warrior dash. yeah, i’m proud of that. uh huh
by Di
On October 12, 2011 at 8:27 am
And you my dear friend win every time you put pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, or sneakers to feet, even with the wrong socks!
by Mad Woman behind the Blog
On October 12, 2011 at 9:16 am
WINNING!
Dammit, this shouldn’t have made me cry but I’m all weepy now. I love the children excited and cheering for their mom and you! You laughing and crying at the end of your marathon.
Yes, I understand all of this, all of this awesomeness.
Adding to list: Napa Marathon….it is SO ON!
by Julie
On October 12, 2011 at 9:46 am
Also ready to fire up those clicking fingers and order this book!
Oh those postgame shots…I cry for the losers almost always, but then again I’m crying for the winners and probably for the towel boys too. Big crier. Sports movies do me in entirely. Rudy? Forget about it.
Anyway, you are amazing. Incredible post, incredible accomplishments.
by Abby
On October 12, 2011 at 9:56 am
OK…I’ve found it! I’ve searched for the perfect poem, quote…SOMETHING…to frame with the picture I have of Macy holding my hand & crossing the finish line with me at the 2010 P.F. Chang’s Rock n Roll 1/2 marathon in Phoenix. I was 16 weeks pregnant with Gage. And no, unlike that lunatic woman–the young one–who ran the Chicago marathon on Sunday and then, 7 hours later, gave birth to a baby, I opted to WALK the 1/2. Because I may be crazy, but I’m not insane–or young–and by that, I mean I’m not 27. Because when you’re 27, you can do ANYTHING! Sorry–I do have a point. I’m making it now.
Julie, this post is what I’m putting in that frame with the picture. Hearing Macy’s elated shout of “Mommy, we WON! after we crossed the finish and knowing that Gage was there, too, since he had to endure what must have been the equivalent of an intrauterine tsunami as Macy & I ran the last 10th of a mile to the finish. THAT is my “I won” moment.
I have to go get some kleenex now–DAMN YOU! Oh, and more importantly? Thanks!
by Leanne Shirtliffe
On October 12, 2011 at 9:59 am
Another fab post, Julie. So what stage is the book in? (I originally typed the word “state” instead of “stage” by accident…oops).
I’ve been thinking a lot about the meaning of life recently. I hate the cliche-aspect of the phrase, but it’s something that I’ve been throwing around in my cortex (doesn’t that word sound almost racy?
Anyway, I suspect it might be different for everyone, but to me life is about loving and learning wholeheartedly. Every day.
And you’ve just confirmed that.
My grandfather – the man who was (and is) my role model – taught himself to bake when he was in his 80s. His wife, my grandma, was in a care home because her Alzheimers was advancing. Grandpa regularly baked her Oatmeal Chocolate Chip cookies and took them in. “It’s not that hard,” he said to me. “You just follow the recipe.” Even after she died, Grandpa would occasionally bring the cookies in for the workers. Ironically (or perhaps not), that same care home was Grandpa’s last resting place.
Remembering him trying new things and reading about you tackling new challenges reminds me of what living is all about.
by Erin Margolin
On October 12, 2011 at 10:11 am
You? are the definition of awesome.
I’ve secretly always wanted to run a marathon, but there’s no way I could ever do it. Before baby, the most I could ever “run” (read: jog/i.e. 10-minute miler over here) was maybe 3-4 miles. I suck at it.
But you? are incredible!
You win!! xoxoxo
by Ado
On October 12, 2011 at 10:16 am
I hated sports when I was a kid too because I wasn’t very good at them.
I loved your racy bravery.
Congrats on a big win. (-:
by Galit Breen
On October 12, 2011 at 10:38 am
This post? Is amazing.
It’s all heart and soul and wonderful.
You let a glimpse of *you* out, and for that- I thank you.
Go you!! You so win, friend, you just so do!
by Kelley
On October 12, 2011 at 10:40 am
Awww!! That is so sweet! Those two little kids brought tears to my eyes. They were so proud of their mother. I absolutely love it. I look forward to hearing more about your book. It’s finished? Where can I buy it??
by Theresa Sonoda
On October 12, 2011 at 10:43 am
A book. A marathon. Insight beyond words. You continue to amaze me, Julie, and I am humbled. I’m no athlete, but used to jog every day. I now walk every day because I am heavy and my knees constantly remind me of this. I’m jumping off a myriad of cliffs at this wonderful time in my life, so I get this post. I get you. I get the winning and the already having won. Thank you for sharing! Look forward to reading the book!
by tracy@sellabitmum
On October 12, 2011 at 10:50 am
Damn you. Every damn time. You do it.
Love.
We are so much the same – I was never sportif in school – not sure what happened when I decided to start running marathons. Let’s run one together next year?
xoxo
by CDG
On October 12, 2011 at 10:52 am
She’s already won! You’d already won. How do you manage to pack so much truth into one little pocket of words?
You make me want to at least finish a 5K or something. And that’s pretty huge, since I just started running yesterday, and I hurt.
by Alexandra
On October 12, 2011 at 11:51 am
I strongly feel there’s still a book in there.
Because of the angle: anyone can do it. the non runners running book. yes, fatass, you can be out there running.
See? those titles speak to me.
xo
by Annabelle
On October 12, 2011 at 12:41 pm
Man, you kick ass!
by Renee Schuls-Jacobson
On October 12, 2011 at 2:08 pm
Julie!
This is my new most-favorite-Julie post. And I have quite a collection. I want to always live like this — and I try to. Always moving forward, always trying new things, always working toward being more fearless, always connecting with others — however possible.
But I’m not going to run.
I’ll ride a horse or dance on tables.
But you can’t make me run.
Unless you tell me about that jog bra of yours.
Cuz my girls need support.
Brilliant my friend. Are you ready to exchange rough drafts yet? Let me know? I’m feeling terrified, but should be there in December.
by Ally
On October 12, 2011 at 2:51 pm
I love, love, love this! And from that last picture, it appears you have continued with the occasional distance race? That’s what I love about running – pure personal accomplishment, no matter what “place” you come in!
by Lori Dyan
On October 12, 2011 at 3:43 pm
I’m reading this while watching my son at swim practice. He just started on a team and he lets every other kid go first to avoid the mere hint of competition. He is your kindred spirit, I think
Love this post and will read your book even if it’s scribbled on the back of a cocktail napkin. You are such a fantastic writer!
ps I did a half marathon once and although I refrained from peeing myself, I did wonder near the end if I was running with a tampon of brushed steel up my snapper. So, you know, there’s that.
by Carolina Valdez Miller
On October 12, 2011 at 4:21 pm
Dude. That’s a serious accomplishment. I just read 26.2 miles and kind of threw up in my mouth a little. Actually, I didn’t get past 26.2 miles for several seconds. Just stared.
I’m still sort of wondering if that’s a typo. Seriously. 26.2 miles????? That’s probably the sum total of all I’ve run in my LIFE. Amazing. Just amazing.
Also, I have no idea how to be competitive. I try, really I do. But always I get in trouble for letting the other person win, not on purpose–it’s just I don’t care. I’ve passed the gene on to my children. Like my older daughter, for example, who at 9 years old told me (when I questioned why she let everyone and their brother cut in line in front of her), “Because it matters more to them.” But running a marathon, well, I suppose as long as it’s not on a team against another team I could probably manage. Someday. Maybe. If there were wine at the end. And cheese. There has to be cheese. Was there cheese?
Did you really wet yourself?
by Cheryl @ Mommypants
On October 12, 2011 at 4:27 pm
I think you need to put a disclaimer on this post mentioning that you ran a sub-2:00 half without particularly training for it. Which, quite frankly, is annoying. And, I believe, your marathon time was equally lovely.
Jealously,
Your Slow Friend
p.s. There is nothing – and I mean NOTHING – like completing a marathon. And even though you’re fast and tiny, I still love you.
You’re amazing. xoxoxo
by Kristin @ What She Said
On October 12, 2011 at 5:17 pm
I think I needed to read this today, a day when I’ve been questioning everything about myself and my abilities and exactly what I was put on this earth to do because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like I’m doing anything spectacular.
I’m also patently uncompetitive. For all the same reasons you were… fear of letting others down. Fear of not achieving my goals. Fear of failure.
This post? Is inspiring to me. So much so that I might have to tuck it away and refer back to it from time to time when I need a good kick in the ass (figuratively and literally).
And I love that you quoted my favorite poem ever.
by Kate
On October 12, 2011 at 5:17 pm
This post? I think “Oh BOY!” sums it up beautifully.
by Alison@Mama Wants This
On October 12, 2011 at 5:25 pm
Julie, you’re my hero, truly.
Go you, racer runner you!
by Julie
On October 12, 2011 at 6:25 pm
Kristin had good things to say about this post, so I had to stop and come see…and just wow.
Sometimes procrastination and this strange defeatist attitude suck all the “I can” out of me. Looking at this, at what you did – and how you enjoyed your moment without lessening the accomplishment of another – I’m so impressed. And humbled.
by Ostriches
On October 12, 2011 at 7:47 pm
you know what seriously?
I want to be you.
Minus the wet pants. That I can do when I’m me. The book writing and marathon running? I think I need to be you. Also musical theater.
by Courtney
On October 12, 2011 at 9:03 pm
Well I see 38 book buyers before me and I say there are another $1,000 who read this and didn’t comment…so let’s go publishers!!
You are inspirational. Truly. I love your spirit.
by Courtney
On October 12, 2011 at 9:05 pm
hmmm…$1,000. That $ sign just crept in there. Let’s say that’s what each copy of your first manuscript is worth. You’re worth it!
by Donna Cummings
On October 12, 2011 at 9:38 pm
I always feel like I’m right there with you on each of your adventures, only this is one that I’m glad I can just experience from the comfort of my couch. LOL I also love your brand of humor blended with poignant. It’ll keep me reading forever.
by Paige Morgan
On October 12, 2011 at 11:11 pm
You and Mads (aka Amy)! You’re both intimidating as all get out, but damn if I don’t dream about the day I get my act together and we all hang out!
Of course you ran the marathon and wrote the book about it and yet, were the wonderful kind person that you are who celebrated the other winners!
Fabulous and intimidating… that is you!
by Jessica
On October 13, 2011 at 12:12 am
You made me think I need an insane leap of faith. Now I need to figure out what to do.
by Charlene Ross
On October 13, 2011 at 5:57 am
Julie your awesomeness -both in writing and the way you live your life- never ceases to amaze me. I can’t wait to read your book. You are a true inspiration. (But I think I’ll stay away from marathons!) Thanks so much for this post!
by maybaby
On October 13, 2011 at 6:37 am
Holy cow. Nothing like starting my Thursday in tears.
Your writing is inspiring and moving and beautiful, and today I am going to find my cliff to jump off of.
by Abby
On October 13, 2011 at 6:41 am
OK. Me, again. I’ll apologize now.
I just read a comment that said something about your running a sub 2:00 1/2 marathon without really doing much training for it? If that is true(and I’m sure it is), I need you to know 2 things:
1) That dare I put out to you over the weekend about coming here and running the 1/2 with me next year? I’m rescinding it-there is no way in hell I could ever run an 8 min. mile and I don’t feel like chasing you for 13 miles. I run to finish (and an excuse to pig out post race). On second thought, though, something tells me that your running an 8 min. mile at altitude without training for it might work in my favor.
So, are you in? LOL
2) The fact that you ran that 1/2 in sub 2:00 means that I am not only framing this post with my picture, but that I’m going to have it fricking bronzed before I frame it! (the post, not the picture).
You are amazing. How is it I can count on my right hand the number of times we’ve actually met, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life?
XO
by The Flying Chalupa
On October 13, 2011 at 11:00 am
DAMN, woman, would you shut up already? You are totally athletic AND a runner AND (of course) a writer! I am so impressed that you run marathons. That takes more mental endurance than I’ll ever possess. And I’m not lying. But running the Silverado Trail actually sounds enjoyable. Followed by vino. Lots of pain-killing vino.
Great post.
by Missy | The Literal Mom
On October 13, 2011 at 1:40 pm
I am in awe that you’ve completed a marathon. What a huge accomplishment. Me? Not sporty either. But I have taken up spinning.
by Jamie
On October 13, 2011 at 5:49 pm
ohemgee… this is the best thing I’ve read in a long time. Maybe it’s because I’m a runner (kind of, not really), maybe it’s because I’ve been so many races and cry at EVERY single one, maybe it’s because my boys say the SAME thing. This is awesome. Awesome.
by Katie
On October 13, 2011 at 5:53 pm
You are a GIANT inspiration to me right now. I was you in school. I avoided all things “sporty” like the plague.
And even now, it’s my least favorite thing ever.
But I trained for a 5K last year and loved it.
After this baby, I think I will do it again. Because you have inspired me to do it.
Do climb back up that uncomfortable cliff and fling myself from it again.
by Megan (Best of Fates)
On October 13, 2011 at 6:41 pm
You had me convinced you were an impressive runner once you told us you wear a sports bra.
That’s way father than I ever make it.
(This post is awesome, btw.)
by Kelly K @ Dances with Chaos
On October 13, 2011 at 7:51 pm
You make me want to finish a new book. As in writing, although I’d probably be happy to read one as well.
Kudos to you for the marathon. I will Zumba for three hours straight, but I do not “get” running.
You are a stronger woman than I.
by Jaime
On October 14, 2011 at 8:13 am
Don’t tell anyone, but every single time I go for a run…I pee my pants a little bit. So it’s all good.
Great post!
by Erin I'm Gonna Kill Him
On October 14, 2011 at 8:52 am
All the pillars – humor, beauty, emotion. God you’re so much more talented than I am.
Shit, I was being competitive.
(begged to be scorekeeper, I love it).
by Shell
On October 14, 2011 at 12:53 pm
A marathon? I’m so impressed!
Love this. So sweet.
I need to find that cliff, I think. Mine doesn’t lead to running though.
by Elena
On October 14, 2011 at 1:51 pm
You just become more awesome in my eyes every single day. I may just be your biggest fan. Let’s just not consider it stalking.
I’m so impressed that you did both of these huge milestones at one time. Cheers to you!
by Nichole
On October 14, 2011 at 3:12 pm
This morning I got off the couch and felt some pain in my hip.
I’m 40 and the first thought that came to mind is that I’m old and falling apart.
But after reading this…maybe I can dig deep and find some spunk in there somewhere.
I’d be grateful if I could just run the four daily miles that I used to do.
I’m lacing up tomorrow.
Thank you! xoxo
by Lady Jennie
On October 15, 2011 at 8:27 am
Why did this make me cry? Why am I so emotional? What a victory. (honestly, especially not telling your husband). So … did you submit your book yet?
And you are racy when you run in see-through (threadbare) jogging pants.
har har
Love you
by Greta @gfunkified
On October 15, 2011 at 5:38 pm
“She’s going to win any minute now”. Oy. My heart just melted.
And you, are an inspiration. Kudos, kudos, and many more kudos to you.
by Mrs. Tuna
On October 15, 2011 at 7:32 pm
Shoot, I can’t even run for 5 minutes and that just takes me to the end of the street. Color me jealous.
by Kristy @PampersandPinot
On October 16, 2011 at 1:58 pm
Wow. Seriously impressive. I was like you too. My mom would call me in sick on field day. Blah. Now I do like some exercise and activity – but – a marathon. I just don’t think that one’s in my cards!
by Alex@LateEnough
On October 16, 2011 at 8:16 pm
I’m competitive as all heck. I stopped running (in part) because of it. So when I came back and ran a 10K for the love of running, I cried. What a freedom and accomplishment.
Your marathon sounds wonderful.
Ps. I’m still competitive. Just not to my detriment as often.
by Suniverse
On October 17, 2011 at 11:44 am
AHHHHHHH!!!!
So wonderful.
Good for you, and good for all of us for jumping off that cliff.
I never cease to be amazed at your ability [run 26 miles? I don't even like to DRIVE 26 miles].
Go you.
by Kari Marie
On October 17, 2011 at 9:06 pm
Oh dear Julie, this post is supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
You may have just inspired me to open an umbrella and hop off the nearest cliff. (Without the singing because nobody wants to hear that.)
Thanks for showing me how.
by Nina
On October 17, 2011 at 10:06 pm
I’m always impressed with people who run! By the way, the mention of all your training made me think of your pedicure post for some reason. I’m picturing your feet!
That was one of my fav posts of yours.
by beth
On October 18, 2011 at 11:28 am
I’m off to get racy. To the store that is. While exercising I “got moves like Jagger” and then I fell of my treadmill. Embarassing. So I’m thinking this racy might be the exact thing I need for me to keep my moves.
You are amazing.
A fellow score keeping, piano and oil painting (HA! I wish), acting (daily), book reading and writing 40+ something female,
Beth
by Sherri
On October 24, 2011 at 2:10 pm
What can I possibly add here but I adore you, your tenacity, and your wit.
That is all.
And I think we may have been twins in another life (you, the cuter tinier one) because I have never been athletic AT ALL, even when I attempted to play on a few sports teams in junior high. But somewhere inside may be an athlete screaming to get out.
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