Turns out that the last time I blogged was the day after the El Paso Marathon.  That day, there were so many feelings.  There was so much joy, so many champagne toasts, so many “can you believe I just did that?”, and there was so much physical pain and exhaustion.  But, more than any of those feelings, that day was marked with anticipation…dreaming with Doug and my family about what it would be like to be in the Boston Marathon in 2014.  To be among the best runners in the whole world at the starting line of the most famous marathon.  I could not even imagine what that would feel like.  I imagined going to the expo and spending our kids’ college savings on Boston Marathon paraphernalia. I imagined starting the race and looking around me, looking for a new or an old friend…someone to swap stories with and congratulate.  I imagined the hundreds of people that would be there offering crowd support.  And of course, I imagined crossing that finish line and feeling like maybe I had accomplished the greatest athletic feat known to man.  And the crowds would go wild while chanting my name.  Extreme, I know.  But, this is my imagination.

The truth is that this imagination – or some version of it – was shared with thousands of runners today. Thousands of people had worked harder than they had ever worked for anything else in their whole lives. And they had arrived in Boston to celebrate. It was supposed to be a day of triumph and celebration. And it turned into a day of terror and devastation.

I just turned off the news. I can’t handle it any longer.  It has paralyzed me today. The reports of the panic and confusion are heartbreaking. The innocent lives taken because of one stupid, senseless act. I cannot handle it.

I know that there is so much devastation in our world today. And that moments like this happen so very often without the media coverage that we have seen today. But today, this one hits home. I got countless phone calls and texts from family and friends concerned that we had gone to Boston this year. As I responded, the hypotheticals started rolling through my head…

What if we had been there?
Would I have already crossed the finish line?
We have been offered grandstand finish area tickets…would Doug have been sitting where the bomb went off?
We have planned to spend a week after the marathon vacationing in Boston…would we have decided to come home early so we can hold our babies?
Would I have had the strength to give blood after finishing 26.2 miles like so many brave runners did?

We could have easily been there. But, thankfully, we weren’t. And as I thank God for that, I am also begging God for clarity tonight. Remind me, why do things like this happen? You can stop it, if you want to, right? So, why wouldn’t you want to?

And I don’t know the answers to those questions. I mean, I do believe that God is completely sovereign. And that yes, He could have stopped today’s events had He chosen to. But, no, I don’t know why He didn’t.  So, instead of asking the question “why?”, I am instead choosing to thank God for sparing me, my family and all of those in Boston today that have survived. And asking God to give me enough grace tomorrow to live as if it is my last. To live in complete surrender to a merciful and sovereign God. To live as if I deserve nothing, and I have earned nothing, but every single thing, even this breath that I am breathing right now is a gift from a loving God. And with every little seed of doubt and despair, that it would be followed by an ounce of faith.  And at the end of the day, my soul will cry out “Marantha! Come Lord Jesus.” Because this world…it’s too much.

My deepest sympathies to the families of those affected today. May God bring you peace and healing.

Right now, I am sitting in the backseat of my mom’s car riding back home from El Paso. Nine hour drive. It’s a long drive, giving me a lot of time to think about yesterday.

I go from being weepy, to being ecstatic, to being overwhelmed, to being numb. I don’t have the words. I will do my best to share my story, but no promises on the details or the cohesiveness.

I woke up at 4:06 AM, nine minutes before my alarm went off. I rolled over and checked the weather on my phone. The forecast had changed so many times for the past week. The latest was showing 35 mph winds, but not starting until early afternoon. That morning, the forecast had mostly stayed the same. For the 7 AM start time, it was showing winds 8 mph, getting up to 16 mph by the time I had hoped to finish.

My mom, Kenny, Doug and I all got ready and were out the door by 4:30 AM. On our drive to the buses, all three of them prayed and asked for God’s favor over me and the weather.

At 5:00 AM, I got on a bus with the other marathoners to be bused up to the starting line. I rode on the bus with Mindy, a gal from Carlsbad, that I struck up a conversation with. She told me that her goal was to break 3 hours. Eeeesh. Y’all, that is so fast. I loved getting to talk with her and felt like, based on last year’s times, that she could win this thing (for women). I picked a good bus mate.

We got to the starting line at 5:45 AM, which was a little annoying. With over an hour to wait for the start, we had a lot of time to get to know the folks around us. I met one guy who was running his 82nd marathon. He runs one every three weeks and averages 5 hour finishes. I met another guy hoping to break 3 hours and another gal that was going to be thrilled with a 5 hour finish. Nice folks on that bus. But c’mon, I was ready to start.

At 7 AM, I crossed the starting line and started my way down Transmountain. During the first four miles of the race, we lost around 1800 feet. It’s definitely a tricky part of the course. The temptation (that I fell for) is to start way too fast. It’s really tough to hold back when you’re going downhill at a grade like that. I don’t think I noticed much wind at this point. It was in the upper 30s when I started. I was wearing shorts and a long sleeve shirt, but I was already sweaty and hot by mile 3. For the first 4 miles, my slowest mile was 7:20. At this point, I felt a little worried about my pace, hoping that I hadn’t gone out too fast, and would crash later.

After coming down the mountain, I slowed down some, but not nearly as much as I felt. At 13 miles, my average pace was 7:41. The goal to qualify for Boston was an 8:12 pace. So, I thought, I have either screwed myself, or bought myself a little time. At the same time, at mile 13, the official time keepers told me that I was in 4th place for women overall. I was, in no way, expecting that. I was excited, but looking back, I think I would have preferred not knowing. In all my marathons, I have never once cared about competing against other runners. But, knowing that I was actually in contention for a top place, I think I probably used some mental and maybe physical energy on that rather than focusing on my goal.

I saw my cheering squad for the third time around mile 15. Doug told me that he spoke to my dad and he had said to slow down, if I needed to and to remember I was here to qualify, not to kill it. That helped, and along the wind that was steadily picking up, I did slow down quite a bit.

At mile 20, we had come out of Fort Bliss military base. The wind was WSW, which meant that it was almost always in our faces, and never at our backs. It was getting grueling. I was so tired and felt tempted to walk several times. At about mile 21, I passed the #3 female, which was exciting, but I was also feeling beat up and was starting to feel worried about my pace.

Oh, I wanted to walk so many times. Several times, I did the math to calculate if I had the time to walk for a minute. Ultimately, I decided I would be so disappointed if I missed my qualifying time because of walking. I decided that if I just kept running, even at a slower pace, I would give my body a little break and still keep moving at a faster pace than a walk. At mile 24, I felt pretty confident that I had qualified. I did the math and I would need to do at least a 10 minute mile for the last 2.2 miles, which I felt positive I could do, as long as I didn’t cramp or fall. I rounded the corner into downtown El Paso and saw my cheering crew for the last time. It was just the boost I needed. I gave it all I had and crossed the finish line at 3:32:27, just 2.5 minutes under goal. And what I never in my wildest dreams expected, I finished 3rd overall for women (behind Mindy, my bus buddy).

I crossed the finish line and doubled over the metal barrier separating the finishers from their families. I was spent – physically and emotionally – thanking God for this incredible experience and opportunity. Just me, a pretty average gal without any innate athletic ability, just qualified for the Boston Marathon and finished 3rd for women and 26th overall. What in the world!?

I really cannot describe the way I feel (except physically, I can barely move). I am so thankful for all the support I have received over the past months of training. I am incredibly thankful for Doug, my mom, Kenny, Cheri, Kelly, Joanne and Fred for being such an incredible crew on race day – for being exactly where I needed you, for giving me goo, for waking up at 4:15, for toasting me three times that day. I am so grateful.

For those of you that have followed my training, I hope that you are inspired to try whatever your little heart dreams of. Just try it.

Here are a few pictures from the day:

The starting area, and the prettiest part of the course.

Around Mile 15, a brutally boring and long stretch.

The Finish

The Top 3 Women – Me, Larisa Pitchkolan (#1), and Mindy Toothman (#2)

And finally, the man that made it all possible by providing me the time and space to train, and my biggest fan and supporter.

Doug here.  As I type this, my girl is standing on top of a mountain in El Paso  preparing to run her 14th (That’s right… 14th) marathon.  After many long weeks of intense training, here we are.  The wind’s in El Paso can be nasty this time of year, so we are praying they stay down this morning.  I’m also praying that Amanda hit’s her target time of 3h35m and qualifies for the Boston marathon – a life-long goal.  But more than anything I’m praying that she knows how very proud I am to be her husband.

I am not a runner.  I honestly think I would rather give myself a root canal than run any further than I could throw (and I throw like I run…).  I get winded getting the mail.  Amanda on the other hand can run like the wind.  Let me brag here a little… Amanda just ran the 3M half marathon in Austin and came in 21 out of 500 in her age group.  Based on previous years, if Amanda were to run her target time today she would come in first in her age group in today’s marathon.  This is more than just a casual hobby to her.  And while I have ABSOLUTELY NO aspirations to run a marathon myself, this is what’s so cool about marriage – we are truly one flesh.   I am not up on that mountain with her right now, but I can’t imagine her having many more butterflies than I do.  A few miles in I’m going to be waving a florescent pink sign and screaming like a mad man as she flies by and I promise that then and for the next 3 hours I will rise and fall with the expression on her face and the few words she is able to share as she runs by.  I will walk on air with her when she crosses that finish line and I will feel the same elation she does when she realizes that she as attained her goal.  And if the worst happens – If the weather doesn’t cooperate of if she just has a bum day I will hurt with her and we will pick each other up and move on to the next race.  I thank God for my amazing wife.  The same qualities that make her a great marathon make her a great mama and wife.  She has a tenacious endurance that keeps her in the race whether the wind is at her back or in her face.

Baby – I’m so stinking proud of you and I can’t wait to see you at the finish line.

(it’s finally day 7 of 7in7 for me. i had planned to write a little bit about what the last week has been like for me, having to write a new post everyday and be okay with how lame or grammatically incorrect it was. instead, you’re going to get what is heaviest on my heart today.)

If you have been reading this blog for any amount of time, or if you’ve poked around over the past week of 7in7 posts, you might know that for the past several months, I have been working harder than I think I have worked for anything in my whole life – to qualify for the Boston Marathon.  You can read about my goal here, and my training reports here, here, here, and here.  In the past 10 weeks, I have run more than 465 miles.  Y’all, that is a long way.  That is roughly the distance from Austin to Amarillo, which we just drove last weekend with two kids (another post after I have finished my Xanax). Without boring you with the details, I have worked really, really hard for this.

And here’s the deal with marathon training.  You can train all you want and you can do everything right.  But, sometimes, race day rolls around and you just have a bad day.  Or the weather stinks.  Those are factors that you really cannot control.  And that’s what we’re dealing with here, people.  Please look at this forecast.

I could cry.

Running with wind working against you can be a game changer.  It could really be a deal breaker.  I am really disappointed about it, and feeling pretty discouraged at the moment.

But, here’s the thing.  I really believe that God can change this weather, if He wants to.  And I can ask him like a child begs for something they want.  And you better believe I am.  I am begging God for His favor with the weather.

And I am asking for you to please join me today.  If you have been with me through any part of this journey, I am so thankful, and I am asking for one last thing.  Please ask God to stop the winds.  Please ask that I would have supernatural strength on Sunday and that I would finish strong.  Please pray that all 26.2 miles would be an act of worship and that I would meet with God.  I need a team here.  Who’s with me?

(Please note that I did resist the temptation to use a Bette Midler “Wind Beneath my Wings” reference in this post. Even though, my sister did an incredible rendition of that song in her elementary talent show.)

(dang you, procrastination. yesterday was the end of the real 7in7, but i put it off for two days. look at me now. out in the wind for day 6 and 7 without an ounce of motivation from my other writing friends. i have been thinking about this post all day long. and i gotta be honest, i got nothing.)

Since most of next Monday’s news reports will be centered around who wore what (or should I say who wore who…or is it whom?) at the Academy Awards, I thought I would go ahead and kickoff our fashion critiques. Tonight, I wore a jacket that got a few mixed reviews. Future Amanda wears whatever she wants and is confident in all things. Future Amanda wasn’t present tonight though and needed a lot of affirmation about her choice of clothing.  So, let’s take a vote from all two of you reading this.

Here it is.  Now, I am showing you a variety of ways to wear this, which I really think adds to its versatility.  First, we have it unbuttoned.  Second, we have it buttoned.  Third, we have it buttoned, but with the collar of my shirt pulled out.  See how versatile that is!?

Ok, so let me hear it, people.  I want honesty and I commit to taking your opinions seriously, even if they’re wrong.

(day 5 of 7in7, and I am stumped.  I think I will write a review of the ballet, even though I don’t know if I can make more than 20 words out of it. Here we go…)

Saturday night, Doug and I went on a date to the ballet. This was both of our first ballet. I learned a few things that night.  We’ll take it from the top.

1. At the ballet, everything is sophisticated…except how they serve drinks.  Take my friend, Annie, for example.  Bless her heart, she ordered a beer and it came in a sippy cup – with a lid and a straw. Keeping it classy, ballet.
   
2. I also learned that some men and women don’t care if they look naked in front of hundreds of people.  This is literally a reoccurring stress dream for me, but for these folks they actually get paid to do it, and I hope they enjoy it.  
3. I also learned that you can give me a fancy date, a nice dress, some eyeliner and lip gloss, but then those little dancers prance out and I hear the pitter-patter of their little feet from the balcony, and I turn into a child.  I got so tickled at that sound and even gave Doug a little nudge to invite him to join me.  I don’t know why I thought that was so funny, but I was quickly reminded of my immaturity and maybe that I didn’t belong at the ballet.
4. I learned that Doug has a slightly inflated perception of his dancing abilities.  He thought the women dancers were pretty impressive, but claimed that he could do most of the moves that those men were doing.  To which, I invited him to show me just one or two of those.  He respectfully declined.
5. And lastly, I learned that Doug and I…we love a lot of things…but I just don’t think the ballet is one of them. I watched three different…uh, what do you call them?…sets?…three different ballets?  Ugh. This is evidence that I am not a ballet person. Whatever you call them, there were three of them and after each one, I scrambled through the program to find out what in the world I just watched. They are supposed to tell stories, and I suppose to some people, they do. But I was not one of them.

Alright y’all. That’s how the Browns felt about the ballet. The opinions expressed here do not represent any validity about ballets and their contribution to culture. We are just lame.

(an honest and raw, incomplete entry for day 4 of 7in7.)

Yesterday, Doug and I had a really difficult conversation with a couple that is very close to us. I won’t go into any of the particulars of that conversation yet. But, it was really, really hard. I haven’t had enough time or space to have any clarity about it yet, but one thing has become painfully clear.

Romans 8.28 says “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”

I will be among the first to tell you that every single circumstance in our lives – the good, the bad, the painful, the unexpected – is planned by a gracious, kind and sovereign God, for our good (if we are in Christ), and for the glory and fame of the name of God. I can say those words so easily, but what became clear yesterday was that I don’t really believe them. It’s not easy to believe that when your heart is breaking, or when you feel rejected and foolish.

Psalm 30.5 says “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.” But that wasn’t true this morning. I didn’t feel joy. I woke up deaf and dumb. All I could see and hear was how hurt I felt. My wounds were screaming at me, and I was consumed.

There is a rub, an inner conflict, that happens when your head believes one thing and your heart is saying something different. Most of the time I don’t know which is which. But I do know that two things were true this morning – (1) the word of God which says that all my circumstances are made for me and (2) the reality of my pain. Both things were true this morning. And I don’t know what to do with those two things.

As I write this, I don’t feel like I am any closer to a resolution than I was when I peeled my head off the pillow this morning. Right now, my faith feels so small. I know the promises of the Bible, but my circumstances are speaking louder today.

Jesus said to the disciples that if they had faith the size of a mustard seed, that nothing would be impossible. Today, I am trusting that. My faith is tiny tiny, but geez, have you seen a mustard seed? I am trusting today that even though I don’t feel joy and that my realities are telling a different story, that I have a God that is writing a bigger story and I really do trust that He is a better author than I am.

Little faith, move mountains today. Lord, heal my heart and make me new. I want to live like the new creation that you made me to be, not the dumb old one. C’mon, new creation.

Tonight, Doug and I are going on a fancy date to the ballet. So, in the spirit of being cultured, for day 3 of 7in7, I thought I would write a limerick.

Tonight we’re going to the ballet
To watch the dancers sway
Dinner and drinks with friends
Before the dance begins
What a way to end the day

(Oh my. This is rough. God bless real 7in7ers on the weekends.)

For Day 2 of 7in7 (even though it’s actually Day 4, but true to form, I am just a little behind), I thought I would answer a few FAQs about myself.  It’s a joke to think that I actually have FAQs, but roll with it, people.  Here are a few answers that I know you’re dying to hear…

Say, Amanda, why don’t you like beans?

I don’t know.  (Way to start it off, Amanda.)  No, I really don’t know.  I think it’s both taste and texture.  As a kid, I liked beans.  There was no event or moment that I can recall that kicked off my bean-aversion.  But, nevertheless, it is there and it is fierce.  If you invite me for dinner (which you should), and you make beans (which you shouldn’t), I will pick around them like a pro.  I am used to it, and actually do it in my own home.  To feed a family of four that includes three males, beans will be part of their (but not my) diet.

Speaking of beans, why do you run marathons?

Good question.  I know people think it’s crazy.  Here’s the deal.  I have a slow metabolism.  My dad claims that I am genetically disposed to obesity.  So, that’s neat and does not affect my self-image at all (she said with shifty eyes).  But, the truth is that I have to exercise.  My body simply cannot keep up with calories in, if I have no calories out.  Unfortunately, I am generally not disciplined enough to work out just for the sake of working out.  So, for me, I have to set goals – something to work towards – to stay disciplined enough for exercise.  Marathons were near to my heart since I had grown up with a marathoning dad.  I ran my first marathon in 2005 and got the bug.  Turns out that I am pretty good at it, and I usually enjoy it.  Next week, I will run my 14^th marathon and hope to qualify for the doozie – the Boston Marathon.

Why do you watch The Bachelor/Bachelorette?

Listen, I am not proud of it.  But, I cannnnooottt stop.  It’s like watching a car accident.  I just can’t look away.  In no way does it inform my realities about love, but it is just good television.  With the advantages of editing, I love watching how crazy those women can be.  And yes, I know that on my best days, I am as crazy (if not more so) as any of them.  But, I just haven’t allowed the whole world to see it on television.  They signed up for this and I love to indulge them.  Give me my friend Tiffany, a glass of wine, some fingernail painting and The Bachelor and you can just forget it.  That, my friends, is the making of a perfect Monday night.

Why do you stay home with your kids?

I know that today it’s not exactly conventional, but I have never really considered another way.  Sure, there are definitely days that I miss working downtown, dressing in heels and going to lunches and happy hours.  But, more often than that I feel really privileged to be the one that feeds my kids all three meals, changes almost every diaper, disciplines, and gets to see their little bodies and hearts develop.  It is hard.  Really hard.  I ache to have conversations with adults, and to have something to show at the end of the day.  But, I think one of the greatest joys that I will have on this side of heaven is getting a front-row seat to see these boys turn into men that (God-willing) love God and love people well.  And I really don’t want to miss a single moment.

Those are the questions that I get most often.  Or at least, the questions that I imagine people wonder most often.  So, let your imaginations rest tonight, folks.

Happy Valentine’s Day, y’all.

Today is a funny day that people have really different and really strong feelings about. There are those that have been planning for weeks, maybe months, for today – for a special gift or a special date.  There are those who plan to propose tonight. There are those who are wearing black today to make the world aware that they hate love. There are those who are grieving today because they lost their spouse this year and today, among most other days, is a reminder of the love that they lost.  There are those who have resigned to sit on their couch and eat ungodly amounts of food and watch reruns of the Bachelor.  And then there are people like me who just don’t care about Valentine’s Day.  (And to really rock the boat, I actually don’t care about Santa Claus either.)  I love love, but I don’t care about February 14 and all the hoopla.

Regardless of how you feel about Valentine’s Day, it’s nearly impossible to get through February 14 without thinking about love.

And here is what I want to say…

Love – the red and pink, chocolate and flowers, hallmark kinda love – will not save you.  Love from another human being will never save you.  God has given us relationships in which we are able to feel and give love and get a taste – just a taste – for how much God loves us, but these relationships and these feelings are incomplete and leave us feeling like we’re still lacking.

I can say with certainty that even though I am crazy about my husband, and I know he feels the same about me, it wasn’t until we were married that we realized we would never fully satisfy each other.  Ugh.  That’s a hard lesson to learn in marriage.  I am thankful that we learned it pretty quickly.  We failed each other miserably and learned very quickly that we were pretty pitiful saviors for each other.  But, what it did teach us, especially me, is that I had put love and marriage on a pedestal.  I had dreamed for so long what it would be like to be in love and to be married and I had positioned myself to be saved by Doug.  I thought that when I got married that I would no longer have my heart broken.  And it turns out, that is a lie. We are heartbreakers, even on this side of marriage.  Because I was never meant to save Doug, and he was never meant to save me. And our lack of saving capabilities makes us even more desperate for a good savior – a complete savior.

So, today, on Valentine’s Day, I plan to enjoy my husband.  I plan to eat PeiWei and have a glass of wine and catch up on some Downton Abbey with him.  But, I also plan to remember how I have a God that loves me without fail, whose love for will never be thwarted, a God whose love was victorious over death and who is near to me and my ever-present help.

I hope that today, no matter how you feel about a day that has been Hallmark-hijacked, that you take a moment to stop looking at the world around you for love and ask God to fill you with a more satisfying love.

“But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end, they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” Lamentations 3.21-23