Category Archives: team in training

grandpa eddy

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The story of a little girl.

Coming home with her new album.

Simon & Garfunkle’s

Bridge Over Troubled Water.

I race in and can’t wait to put in on the turntable.

My Grandpa is on the couch. Sick.

So. Very. Sick.

It’s 1970. He has Multiple Myeloma.

Not much longer to live.

But. What do I know?

I’m just excited about this record.

I put it on the player, and the familiar piano chords come out.

My mother, not knowing what this is.

Because we just got out of the 60s.

She comes racing in to tell me not to play it.

It’s too loud!

Grandpa is sick.

He says, “Dee Dee, let her play it.”

And this is the part when I start weeping.

Every time I tell the story.

Because Sail On Silver Girl.

I can see him now. Closed eyes.

Listening to this beautiful music.

It was the last summer he was alive.

And because of his diagnosis, he didn’t see me

graduate high school, college,

He wasn’t at my wedding,

and he never saw my sons.

When I accidentally signed up with TNT the

Summer of 2009, I had no idea

how important this cause would become to me.

I needed a plan. A training plan. I already had a bib.

So, I raised money. I trained.

And. The morning of my first NIKE marathon

The loudspeaker says “Multiple Myeloma”

and my mother looks at me and says,

“That’s what Grandpa had”

His name. Written on my arm.

And now, 4 marathons later,

I run in SLO with his name again.

I am so close. The total at top

does not reflect what I really need.

What I really need.

Is for every little silver girl

To have her Grandpa.

As long as she can and maybe for a lifetime.

If you want to donate to the cause, click here

(This is a post on my fundraising page.  To date, I have raised $2069.80,

and have to raise $2375.  Only $305 to go, if in case you want to help.)

tough times to raise a buck.

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As I go to press with this post that has been looming in my psyche for days, I hear the muffled sighs and rolling of eyes.  Or, maybe that’s me.

Most of my friends and family know that I’m fundraising for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.  It’s all over this blog.  I started fundraising accidentally in 2009, and also accidentally found out that my Grandfather also died from a blood cancer.  Thus, my new love for TNT.

It was easier in 2009.  I was fresh.  Fundraising was fun.

Last fall, I definitely wanted to run the Nike Women’s (Half) Marathon for that Tiffany, and didn’t get the lottery draw, so I joined TNT again.  One heel injury, and vertigo spells later, I had to bow out, with $800 to the good.  I definitely wanted to finish what I started for SF, and found out that San Luis Obispo was also a TNT race.  WOW.  Rollover complete!

This is not a lottery race.  It’s fairly cheap, and I could buy my way in.  I don’t have to continue to raise the money.  At $2550, I think of how much MORE I have to raise to run with the team.

It’s tough times.  I am in a forever non-foreclosing house, making near poverty level, hanging on to rickety pickets on my fence, propping up my back fence with 2 by 4s, broken bits and pieces of the house held together with duct tape.  Seriously.  Why would I take on fundraising in times like this?  Why not just pay for the marathon, and be done with it.

Because.

Because I know that kids who have leukemia have a 97% chance of living now.  From the FACTS brochure: (my words…and my stellar chart-reading skills)

  • If you had Myeloma in 1960, you had a 12% survival rate.  Now?  41%
  • A kid with Hodgkins?  In 1960, 40% chance…now…86%
  • Every 4 minutes someone in the US is diagnosed with a blood cancer.  By the time it took me to run my 5 miles today, 14 people were diagnosed.  Every FOUR MINUTES.
  • Myeloma rarely occurs in people under 45.
  • LLS has awarded $814 MILLION in research grants.  MILLION.  That’s a lotta zeroes, people.

So.  I have $900 more to raise.  I have a football pool.  I am trying not to bug you.  It’s a bitch to raise money in these times.  People don’t want to see me coming.  I usually think, why would I want to do this?  I HATE asking people for money.

Then, I think about my Grandpa.  How I was the first born grand-daughter of the Bon Bon Ice Cream Machine inventor.  How, when I was in 6th grade, and he was so sick, and I had my new Simon & Garfunkle album, my mother rushed in to tell me not to play the Rock and Roll.  And.  He said.  ”Dee Dee, let her play that song…”  He loved Bridge over Troubled Water.  I am the Silver Girl, and I think of him every day.  I like to think that every time I hear it, he’s in heaven, smiling.

Chances are, he never would have seen my sons.  But.  He might have seen me graduate from college, or be the first one in our family to get a Master of Science degree.  He might have been at my wedding.  Or my other wedding.

So.  I raise money in his memory.

Please don’t think I’m playing on your sympathy.  I hate that mushy shit.  However, if it moves you to donate…even $5, then that’s awesome.  I often get hit up for fundraising.  I take my little check and let it roll into a $10 donation.  I’m embarrassed that I can’t give more, but I can’t.

So.  Go to the raffle on the top of the blog, and let your money play a game.  $1000 will be donated to TNT, and the LLS.  I will do the same for you, if you only ask.

 

Hollywood Half Marathon Christmas Giveaway

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Did you say you want to run with the stars?

I’ve been given a free entry to the Hollywood Half Marathon, on April 7, 2012.

You want to win?  

It’s simple.  You know that I’m running the full San Luis Obispo Marathon

for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society on April 22, 2012.

Each time you donate $20, I will enter you in the drawing

for a free bib for the Hollywood Half Marathon.

San Luis Obispo or BUST!  Donate here ~~~

I will be drawing the name of the lucky winner on Christmas Eve, and YOU get ready to run 13.1

PS-The winner will get his/her $20 refunded to them by me…so it’s a totally free bib!

Good luck, and let’s do this!!

Something Bigger Than Me

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I ran my first marathon in 2009.  My Nike Women’s Race Report can be found here.  I ran 3 others.  LA twice, MCM once.  I have run at least 8 half marathons.  I have volunteered at Mile 20 water station in LA.  

Yesterday, I did a small stint at a water station for TNT.  Mile 8.5 had me setting up cups of water, gatorade, putting out salt, setting up First Aid.

You see, I ran my first marathon ever with TNT.  And, I was coming back to run Nike Women’s again this fall, and I got a pesky heel, then back injury.  I was not a happy camper.  I left the team, with a promise for Spring.  I joined the Facebook Page, but it depressed me.  I was not a part of this thing.

So, when the call came out to help a little bit for the water station, I said yes.  Because, I’m saying yes now.  To many things. (see last post).

As I waited in the chilly soon-to-be-fall morning, I started to reflect on that first 20 miler.  I remembered Knights Ferry, which we ran EVERY weekend.  I loathed the hills, and the route.  But, I went.  I was always the last in…it’s just my position, and I’ve accepted it.

I waited 90 minutes for my first runners.  Fast ones, they were.  I was so impressed that I forgot to give them a playing card (it was a poker run).  Every 20 minutes or so, groups of runners would come.  And I would give them drinks, play music.

My car battery died and I had to call AAA, but I didn’t care.  Because I was a part of something else.  Something other than my heel and my back and my bills and my kids.  I was part of something bigger than me.   Just a little water station got me thinking about all the water stations all over the country.  About people getting up at 4am to load their cars to come and support and volunteer to help.

About TNT.  About raising money for getting rid of blood cancers.  I remembered hearing my Grandpa’s Multiple Myeloma being named as one of the cancers.  I remember that morning-the morning of my first marathon- running with his name on my arm.  And my cousin’s wife (who is in remission…thank God).

And I remember the warriors.  The ones who are in chemo and radiation and hooked up to needles and given a prognosis that shakes their worlds.  And they fight.

So, when the last group of runners came through, and I looked at my empty table, and I cleaned up my mess, I thought…well, it’s not much.

But, it’s something.

Stockton Rotary Run 5K Race Report

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Erika, Me, Row at start 

Wow.  Great inaugural race.  I’m told that all five Rotary groups got together to put this race together, and I must say, having had experience with “inaugurals”, this one was well run.

I had planned to race the Tough Topanga 10K on Saturday, but was hit with vertigo, making a 6 hour car trip not appealing or possible.  So, I stayed home.  Pouted.

Then realized that I had 6 donors who had purchased a mile on my race.  I needed to find something to race.  Something small.  I remembered my gal Row was talking about the Stockton race, and I simply thought…this is what I should do.

Having again forgotten to check my paces on my McMillan Race Calculator, I just drove to Stockton with a check at 6:30 this morning.  And a Sharpie.  With names on my arm, and fresh off a bout of vertigo, I got out in the wind and quickly found a Starbucks.  I waited for Row, and we walked to the starting line.

This race was to eradicate polio worldwide, and so for a worthy cause, I loved toeing the line.  A woman spoke who had polio when she was three years old, and her final words were:  “Run for those of us who can’t.”  I couldn’t believe only a day before I had been complaining about dizziness and weight gain.  It was the best perspective for the race.

Stockton is pretty flat.  It was an out and back, and I start fast as usual, but head to the back of the pack.  At the .6 mark I was thinking I really am slow, but remembered not to compare myself to all the 30 year olds here.  As I passed the 1.6 mark, I looked down to find an 8:xx pace, so I was pretty stoked.  My goal was not to do a PW (34:xx) and try to stay above the 11 minute mile pace.

I’m pretty happy with my pace.  10:23 and 6th place out of 12 in my age group.  I also was 24th out of 51 of all the women.  I have to remember that I’m not really running against anyone.  Not even against myself.  I am just running.  And, when I beat a prior time, I get that inner strength to toe the line again next week, because this season I’m running strictly for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, and you can sponsor me for a mile or two here.  Today, I ran for Randy, a former teammate from the 2009 TNT team.  He ran with me.  Was diagnosed with Leukemia.  Died this year.  I thought of him today.

Great job Stockton!  My favorite part?  The old school food at the end.  Cookies from a package, and cut up oranges.  I will be back for this one!

the wineyard rocks.

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Join us for

A night of Wine Tasting

To raise funds and help beat cancer for

The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society

The WineYard is offering wine tasting for $20

++ You also get a raffle ticket to win a Magnum of Wine!++

Half of your donation goes to the LLS Society

and Team In Training

May 28, 2011

4-7 pm

1948 E Thousand Oaks Blvd
Thousand Oaks, CA 91362

(805) 230-2773

www.wineyardinc.com

A big thanks to my sister and her business partner for letting me hold my event in their hood!  It should be a great time, with a magnum of wine as a giveaway!  If you can’t come, but still want to donate, please visit my link!  Thanks to everyone!

Here’s a picture of the my two sisters and me in The Wineyard last Christmas…Left to right, youngest to oldest!

In Which I Give Up Twitter…

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Twitter.  I loved you. 

You introduced me to TNT, and training for my first marathon.  I shifted from blogging and commenting to interacting in more efficient ways.  Arnold Schwarzenegger’s office responded to my tweet about losing my job in 2009, and they helped me navigate the system.  When Michael Jackson died, it was Twitter who gave me the news first. 

I had long, lonely days and nights where I could non-stop tweet about anything I want.  And, you loved me.  You embraced my non-sensical noise and let me ramble on about running, about parenting, about ex husbands and such.  During Dodger games, I tweeted from the MLB app, exhibiting getting deeper and deeper into the social Twitter web. 

You weren’t like chat rooms, or blogging, or message boards.  Oh, I had done them all.  Quantum Link, Weight Watchers message boards, Smart People (or something like that…).  I had long, lengthy opinions about everything, until you came along.

You, with your 140 character limit.  Until I found the Holy Grail of Bit.ly, Tinyurl, etc.  Until I found a way around your silly limit.  Like most things in my life, I found and broke the rule, and lived outside of even your box. 

I entered contests.  I retweeted with a vengeance.  I met runners galore.  I even met my coach on Twitter.  Some of my best friends are there…Yet, I abused you Twitter.  I had too much fun.  It was like going into a pub after a long, hot, hard day, and pounding the bar at 2am wondering how I had stayed so long. 

I likened Twitter to a coffee shop.  A big hall of table after table, where I could stop and enter a conversation with ease.  I often had direct messages with people I should not have been talking to.  If Twitter was a coffee shop, we were in our own room, and if you are somebody else’s mate, then I am out of bounds.  Toward the end of my Twitter run, I started noticing that I was adding more and more people, but interacting less and less. 

Twitter, you were the good friend who introduced me to other good friends.  I bashed Facebook in favor of you, and I defended you to the end.  I reluctantly joined Facebook because I started dating my out of town Harley Guy.  He was a Facebooker, and we stayed connected through that medium.  He also joined Twitter, and we professed our love for each other on both sites.  I started adding Twitteratti to my Facebook page.  Yet, I could not have both worlds.  I had to choose.

Most readers of this site know that I can be addicted to anything that God made more than one of.  You’ve seen me in my sobriety,  to giving up Diet Coke, trying to give up things that I abuse.  And, because I’m in a relationship with a sober man, my Twitter behavior simply had to change.  But not just for him.  For me.  For my sobriety.  I gave up Twitter to get closer to my God.  To who I really am.

No longer was it appropriate for me to DM (direct message) a man.  Men friends who had previously talked privately with me, were getting that message loud and clear:  I don’t DM with married men any longer.  No longer was it appropriate to flirt in the public timeline, or much worse, be suggestive.  One day a wife came on to the public timeline, and answered a tweet I sent to her husband, as if to say, “Okay.  That’s enough now.”  I heard it loud and clear, and started paying attention to my so-called persona. 

Don’t get me wrong Twitter.  I’m not judging your format, or other people who Tweet.  Everyone has their own set of rules.  But, because I’m looking for sobriety throughout my life, I simply had to let go.  I called a friend from New York as soon as I saw the addiction.  I went through my 900+ followers, and lo and behold, the 40 or so that I knew personally were on Facebook.  My New York gal pal stayed with me on the phone while I deactiveated my account.  Forever. 

It’s been 10 days.  It didn’t hurt in the beginning.  It doesn’t hurt now.  If you are looking for me, I’m on Facebook, posting 4x a day at most.  I’m liking and poking to death, so yeah…I’ll have to eventually look at that too, but I have a new set of standards as a woman in a relationship, in love with a man who I want to honor.

John Mayer did it.  Even Miley Cyrus gave up Twitter.  I guess it was also time for @MsV1959 to hang up her hat.

Nike Women’s Marathon Race Report

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Let’s get the details out of the way.  Right now.

5:58:16, a 13:40 pace

121/212, 57%

I’ve started to write this report a dozen times.  I’m not sure that I can capture exactly what this race has been for me. 

PRE-RACE:  It all starts Friday, when my Mom and sister come up to be my cheer squad, and to take my sons to San Francisco for the race.  We are up late…my sister helping me pack and re-pack.  Getting everything laid out, then put back in. 

Saturday morning comes bright and early.  I wake with a stomach ache.  *that kind*…I get up at 4am, go back to sleep, get up…all marathoners must know this drill.  Sleep, wake, look at clock.

At 6am, I am finally packed, have my bowl of oatmeal and am driving to San Francisco, about 80 minutes away.  It’s dark.  I had planned on taking the BART, but switched at the last minute, and am so happy that I did.  Can’t even imagine dragging luggage today.

I check into my hotel, and decide to walk over to the Expotique.   img_1850

I decide that Nike is a machine, it’s all a racket, am very cynical.  I get some oxygen…I look like I’m sick here, but whatever. img_1844

I even stand in line for an hour to get a free manicure.  I look up.  The poster that would inspire me the rest of the weekend.  Two girls.  Happy finishers.

And…the Mother Ship.  NikeTown.

img_1845

I’m sitting doing the manicure, and get a tweet from @anotorias, aka Jennifer, who is…in the building.  We have chatted on Twitter, but we go to Macy’s to get a coffee, and spend a lot of time talking about nothing at all…racing, running, folks.

img_1847

My children ride spin bikes to make a smoothie. (what?)

img_1851

Just as soon as I’ve decided that it’s all a big racket, I see a crowd in front of NikeTown.  I think they are all in line to go in the store.  People are taking pictures.  We stroll over there, and see that it’s a wall.  A wall of names of people who raised money for TNT.  Suddenly, I realize I’m on that wall.

img_1856

And, I almost cry.

This is where it gets really boring…everyone does this…lay out their gear, the food, the stuff that goes in the fuel belt…and oddly, I’m not nervous.  We go to the TNT Inspiration Dinner, which is a whole other post.  I will cry.  I will.  We go to meet the team, and CharlieBob gives us our last instructions.  He’s dead serious.  One of the girls is slightly tipsy, and he seems irritated, because he has said…no alcohol!  We are told to be in the lobby at 6am sharp.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

RACE DAY:  I wake up at 2am.  At 3:30, I’m still awake.  I put on my relaxation music.  It just wakes me up more.  I figure, what the heck.  Might as well get up.  Next thing I know I wake in a sweat, and it’s 4:45am.  I take a shower.  3 Alarms go off…and, it’s on.

img_1871

I meet CharlieBob downstairs.

img_1873

This is, literally, minutes before I am lost in the crowd.  I don’t know where anyone is.  I don’t know where I’m supposed to go.  I have my 12-14:09 orange bracelet, so I know I have to find orange.  I can’t find my Mom, my sister, my kids.  SpeedySasquatch, who at the 11th hour came in to coach me on my final moments last week, suggested I line up at the back of the corral.  Great advice, but I can’t find the corral.  Don’t even know what it looks like.  Is it wood? Iron?

I turn and see my kids.  The loudspeaker says something about the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society…and that Myeloma…and that’s all I hear.  My mother looks at me, and says, “Did you hear that?”  We weren’t sure if Myeloma was a blood cancer, supported by the LLS.  My grandfather died of this in 1970.  The only grandfather I will ever know, and I loved him so much.  My sister got out her sharpie, and along with the other names on my arm, wrote, “Grandpa Eddy”.  I will cry again, but instead, I will play this in remembrance of him.  It’s a long story.  Another post.  (I’m the Silver Girl, in case you’re wondering)

I look to the left.  There’s the corral.  I have to hop in.  I’m in the very front.  I tell ya.  It was the thrill of the day for me.  The 5:30 pacer was right behind me.  I didn’t even really know what a pacer did…exactly.  I held signs, I snapped pictures.  I watched as everyone started.  Finally, 20 minutes later…we went.

RUNNING:  It’s hard to describe that first mile.  Overwhelmed.  Crowded.  Joyous.  The pacer?  I think to myself when she takes her first walk break…”No way.  I am not walking in MILE ONE!”

At Mile Two, I joined her, and was with her until Mile Twelve. {*note:  At mile 6, I knew I would finish.  Jennifer ran up and with me around mile 9 or 10. (HOW COOL!)  Then, the Half Marathoners split off to the side.*}

Let’s just say, my good senses overtook my pride, and I decided that if anyone could get me through this, the pacer could…and she took me to mile 12, until I had a very bad stomach ache…again.  I had to use the porta-potty.  So she stopped.  Then, while I’m deciding what to do she yells, “5:30 pacer is leaving the bathrooms!”  This just made me get OUT OF THERE.

And, I never saw her again.  Just that little red sign going farther and farther away from me.

At Mile 13.1, we turn around in Golden Gate Park.  I see other runners coming back, and I think…okay.  This is hard now.  The hills.  I was prepared for the hills.  I was not prepared to be alone, after running with *Deb*.  She had a whole other group now, and I was lost.

I turn the corner, and out of the blue I hear, “Hey, Linda…can I run with you?”  Her name is Michelle.  She is from Houston.  She is all supportive.  SURE!  I needed a partner right about then, and she was struggling…so I said, let’s do what the pacer does:  Run 5 minutes, Walk 1.  We did this the rest of the race…or a version of it. 

We had rules:  She said, I don’t run up hills.  I said, I walk if I want to.  Jockeying for position I guess.  I had to go to the bathroom.  In the woods.  She says, “Go ahead, I’ll cover ya.”  With this, she saved my life.  Seriously.  I would yell, “HOUSTON WE HAVE A PROBLEM”, which became our signal of distress.

At Mile 16, the Half Marathoners come in and Michelle says, whatever you do, don’t look right.  There is my sister and my sons, and my youngest yelling…”It’s right here, you can stop RIGHT HERE!”  To the right is the finish.  We are at Mile 16, and have to go to the left.

I see my Mother, and want to cry…but I have no pain.

Here’s where it gets sketchy.  We go out 3 miles.  We go up to Lake Merced (who puts a lake by an ocean?).  From mile 19-22, I am at the *Bite Me* miles.  I know I will keep running, but I am having a hard time.  My legs feel like lead.  My stomach hurts, I’m cramping…I stop at Mile 22 and get Tylenol from the First Aid…which is exactly what I needed.

The best part of the day:  Coming down from the lake, and running the last three miles.  At this point, I had no music.  I listened to the sound of feet, and the ocean.  Beautiful.  Zen.

Several times, people from TNT come out and run with me.  Michelle waits, but then I tell her she needs to go.  I need her to go.  She has done a great service to me, and I want her to finish strong.  I don’t even care how I do…but I look at my watch, and if I keep running, I can make 26.2 miles in under 6 hours.

I hear my sister yelling.  My kids are running up with me on the sides.  Taking pictures.  I see my Mother.  Again.  I know she is proud of me.

I am so close.  I start to sprint.  I call up Granny in heaven, who doesn’t even need to give me that push again…but she does…and I thank her (again, another post).  I am vaguely aware that Michelle has turned around to look at me and cheer me in.

I sprint.  I remember the times in Jr. High when I ran with my dad.  The times on the track team when I’m last, and my family is in the stands waiting for me.  I remember my Dad yelling to sprint on our street.  And, I am sprinting. 

I look up at the clock.  I make it under 6 hours.  I get a blue box from a man in a tuxedo, which seriously was fabulous, but I couldn’t see a thing.  I take the box, and I cannot move.  People are hugging.  I don’t even know what to do.

Michelle comes up to me.  I hug her and say “Thanks Michelle!”  She says, “that’s not my name…I have a really hard name, so it’s easier to say Michelle.”  This makes me laugh, and then I cry like a baby.  A total stranger.  Who ran with me over half of the race.  Who pulled me when I wanted to stop. 

Her name is Najat. 

I cry.  I’ve done it…but not alone. 

More to come later…when I can process what this means to me…but I think I’ve found my race.  It’s the Marathon.  It is.

 

it’s T minus 3 days.

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This has been an odd day.  Last night, my youngest son tells me that he is getting promoted to a Red-Black belt tomorrow night at TaeKwonDo.  I say, “Honey, I have playoff tickets to Game 1…do you want me to stay?” Small pause.  “No, Mom.  It’s fine.”

Not only do I love this boy madly, I realized that even though October 15th, 1988 was 21 years ago, and when Kirk Gibson hit his dinger, and I have tickets to that very game tomorrow on October 15th, 21 years later…and I…well, I just realized in that moment that he would never be 10 again, and never get this belt again, and um…the Dodgers can play over and over again…

Okay, so I stayed home.

Today, I roamed around the house, packing for Nike…planning to go to the BIG Fresno Fair tomorrow…then went and saw “Whip It”…then the final team meeting.

Tonight, Marsha (of the LLS), and CharlieBob gave us all the lowdown on the hills and the Nike Marathon and the Gu, and ….AND I’m starting to fidget.  I mean fidget like crazy, like bounce around.  Rick, my mentor is sitting next to me saying You’ll be fine.  You will.  You don’t need the early start, and you will get across the finish line and …

I’m freaking out.

$$$ Love $$$

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nike+

I’m on T-minus 6 days until Nike.

If I haven’t said it before, I need to say Thank You out loud.  I did over at Twitter, but I know there are many of you who are my precious readers, and you donated.  You got up, got out of your chair, walked over to your wallet, found your credit card, sat down and filled out the silly form…all so you could put $ toward my fundraising effort for LLS.

Actually, though…here’s what you REALLY did, what your dollars mean:

  • Every 4 minutes one person is diagnosed with a blood cancer.

  • An estimated 139,860 people in the United States will be diagnosed with leukemia, lymphoma or myeloma in 2009.

  • Every ten minutes, someone dies from a blood cancer.

  • Leukemia, lymphoma and myeloma will cause the deaths of an estimated 53,240 people in the United States this year.

AND NOW THE GOOD NEWS:

  • An estimated 912,938 people in the United States are currently living with, or are in remission from, leukemia, Hodgkin lymphoma, NHL or myeloma.

  • There are survivorship programs, focusing on life after cancer, at several major hospitals around the country.

  • You can also participate in TNT training around the country.  And, if you do…I will gladly find my wallet and card and pony up some $$. 

I’m sure I will be complaining about my poor, tired legs…or my hot mess of a taper, my restlessness, etc…BUT, every step I take, I will try to remember why I’m out there…

Because…it’s not about me, after all.

(here is the complete list of supporters…you could click above, but this is so much cooler)

If you want, you can track me *live* on the day of the race. 

https://register.eternaltiming.com/nike/ 

 My full name  is Linda Vermeulen
On behalf of The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, thank you very much for your support.  I really appreciate your generosity.

My Thanks To

Kelly Day  
Alicia Ambroso  
Richard Phifer, Jr  
TriValley Lending  
Chris Harris  
Teresa Busch  
Gina Allen  
frostyrunner  
Ken Johnson  
sheilamking  
Donna D  
Laura Scarborough  
PunkRockRunner  
Tracy Schaffer  
Laura Van Nieuwenhuyzen  
Jill Schemper  
Donald Halseth  
Cindy Femino  
Michael Erickson  
Jody Lopez  
Lisa & Kenny Pearl  
Penny AKA Southbaygirl  
Ron Harvey  
The Running Fat Guy  
Tim Oberholzer  
Sue Gelber  
Nina Jack  
Linda Vermeulen  
Mom & Dad Eddy  
Aaron Matzkin  
Mona Cameron-Ball  
Tara Miller  
Susan Urillo  
Laura Quesada  
Robby Halford  
sarah vargas  
Jennifer & Fletcher Ostra…  
cathy connell  
Julie Willey  
James Feeny  
Michael Power  
Michael Campana  
Bonnie & Tom Eddy  
PunkRockRunner  
CMH & LKH  
Lisa Huismann  
Jami Vander Weide  
Jill Schemper  
eric boles  
Elyssa Emerick  
tammy lozano  
Jennifer Ward  
Alison Young  
Stacy Kissee  
Stephen Valgos  
Bill & Michelle Barry  
Deborah Bartolomei  

Darlene Day