The Original MAJ (1945-2019)

This has long been a blog about a mania for insisting that everything is good.  

The Original MAJ (1945-2019)
c. 1964

Of course, I haven't blogged in lit'rally YEARS.  I've spent all my time posting pics on Insta and enjoying my racing and training (after I stopped opining about it all day long,  I achieved a small amount of success. Who knew.)  

But this week we lost the matriarch of my family, The Original MAJ.

A lot of people think that my social media moniker refers to me.  But it's always been my personal tribute to my mom (my initialsake, The Original MAJ).

So, about this "mania" crap. Voltaire’s famous satire Candide chronicles the adventures of a paranoid pessimist, Candide, and a persistent Pollyanna, Pangloss. Candide is constantly thwarting Pangloss and his sunny views; his trademark expression is: optimism is a mania for insisting everything is good when we're wretched.  

The Original MAJ was a Pangloss. She battled two different types of cancer, for 7 years straight.  She was once given 6 months to live; she lived more than 3 years after that prognosis.  But, up until her last few weeks on earth, she clung fiercely to her faith and insisted that this was the "best of all possible worlds," and that "God's got it under control."

(Side note: I respect whatever religion/power you do or don't believe in; Mom was a German Lutheran who clung to unwavering faith in her God and her religion.  Whether that is for you or not, no worries.)

You know my story by now, but if you don't, Cliff's notes: about 10 years ago, through a series of events both in and out of my control, my life and my health spiraled downward. Everything from divorce to illness to homelessness to financial ruin to cancer - basically, everyone's worst nightmares - happened to me . . . . all at once. I suddenly found myself broke, sick, struggling, and incapable of maintaining any of the elements that once made my life so amazing and adventurous and positive. I became petty and sad and tired.

I became a Candide.  And all I wanted in life was to be a Pangloss again.

Literary geniuses: I understand that Candide was a satire, intended to mock the Pollyannas of Voltaire's day.  But I do not mean anything about this satirically: my mom was the most positive person that the Lord (or whomever) placed on this earth.

My mom NEVER lost that optimism.  She never stopped believing that everyone had good in them. She never stopped believing that God would call her home at EXACTLY the right time.

The day she passed, I'd been sitting at my desk staring aimlessly at my lap, alternating between crying and feeling relieved that Mom was no longer in pain.  Out of nowhere, I remembered Mom telling me: "in times of need, just open your Bible with that need on your heart, and you'll open it to exactly the right verse." 

So that day I decided to humor her: I went to the bookshelf and extracted the family Bible, which is from the 1940s and King James version (Mom's favorite). 

After a few moments of fumbling, the crumbly tome fell open to reveal a tattered ribbon, barely still attached, nestled between the pages of The Gospel of St. Luke.  My eyes traveled to the bottom of the page, Luke 20:36, where I read: Neither can they die any more: for they are equal unto the angels; and are the children of God, being the children of the resurrection.

I left it, sitting on my living room table, open to that page, for the next 4 days.

I don't know when (or if) I'll write again, but I came back to update this blog because I own the URL, and always will (in Mom's memory).  And I laughed when I read my "origin story."  Because now, with Mom gone, the origin story of this blog has become the mission of my life.

Exactly as it was the mission of hers.

To that end, the ultimate, absolute, final goal is to take every experience, every feeling and make something constructive and positive of it - no matter how bleak, bitter, or dark it may seem.

So, here's to embracing that mania for insisting everything is good.

Here's to The Original MAJ.

Your Mother Did Not Raise You to Be a Quitter: The 2013 New York Marathon Race Report

So some of you have already heard me gushing about New York, but I can't stop talking about it.

 


I am sitting here nursing a cold that's been coming on for over a month, thinking about howI'm going to explain New York.  I don't have any idea how I can keep this short; there are so many amazing memories from the race this weekend.  (For one, I want Brooklyn and Midtown to know this: MAJ loves you!!!!) 


So let me first apologize for the length of this entry today.  But there are just so many reasons why this race was extraordinary. 


On the morning of my 6th marathon, I woke up in New York. The City That Doesn't Sleep. The Big Apple. My favorite place in the world.  I thought I'd be nervous about running 5 hours with a bad head cold. I thought I'd be anxious about making the aggressive goal I've been chasing (and head colds and stress fractures have thwarted) for the past two years.  I even thought I'd be a little sad that I only get to do one marathon a year and I almost didn't get to do this one.

But I wasn't.  I knew, in my bones, that this would be a special day.

It was a very emotional week for me. For one, we raised $1785 this year, which puts my lifetime totals well over the $3,000 mark for the ACS.   For another, I carried over 30 names with me through the 5 boroughs and I did that - as I figured I would -  with a lot of smiles and tears. So many smiles that my face literally hurt from smiling (although, for some reason, the professional photos only caught me during the "hurting" moments!)

I've often said that running a marathon is a transformational experience, but New York is unlike anything I've ever done.  You wait a long time to start, but even getting to the start is an experience. Once you're there, it's walls of people and energy and culture and excitement and love - no better word for it - love like you have never seen. Or felt.  You're never alone - not for one tenth of a mile of the race; there's always something to see.  Even as you exit Central Park and collect your poncho, the volunteers are reminding you that you run this city, that YOU are the marathon. 

I felt like this was my first marathon all over again, except I wasn't a lost little kid wandering Philly alone this time, but surrounded by all my favorite people and places. 

The night before the marathon, I headed to the ACS Team DetermiNation dinner. I'd been up since 3am and I was trying my best to fight my cold but failing. My ears were plugged up. Just as I got off the subway on the way to the dinner - running late, of course - I reached behind my ear and discovered the back to my earring was missing.

I am very superstitious:  I have only two specific pair of earrings and one necklace I will wear during a race.  This particular pair was from Mom, who had given them to me recently because she'd gotten tired of wearing jewelry and she knew I would love them. And love them I have - especially the fact that they have screw-on backs, which actually have to be turned like screws to go on and off, making a klutz like me a lot less likely to lose them. 

So there was no way I was going to run this race without them.  But, with a back missing - a special back that I'd have to pay a jeweler cash I don't have to replace - there was no way that was going to happen.

As I sat there at the dinner and we talked about the people we have loved - and lost - the tears flowed freely down my face.  I lost track of whether I was wiping my face because of the cold or the tears.  I cried because I wanted to wear those earrings.  I cried because I know they're just things.  I cried because I didn't want to tell mom about the lost back, and because I wanted her to be there. I cried because I have a lot of other things going on in my life.  And I cried because I had no clue how I was going to run 26.2 miles in such an emotional state, with such a bad cold. I kept reminding myself, if you believe good things will happen, they will - whether they actually happen or you just choose to make the things that happen good.  I really, really, wanted to turn this into something good.  

And then later, in the hotel room, as I lay out my race gear for the next day (still crying a little), I saw it. Near the door to the bathroom, calmly nestled between the tile and the carpet, sat the earring back.  With the earrings were screwed - much more tightly - into my ears, and I knew that my Mom was there.

So I have to tell you now that I missed my lofty goal time again this year.  I have to tell you that because I want you to know why it didn't matter to me.

Every time I got tired, or sore, I had a little conversation with my mom.  I know that sounds crazy, but it worked.  I would say, come on, Mama, I need you now. or Just you and me, Mama, we got this.  Or sometimes it was Mama, please help me get through this. I am doing this for you and I want to honor you. Each time, she'd give me a little push, and I'd pick my feet up a little higher and carry on.


I asked for her help a lot.  The Staten Island bridge is such a long climb that you don't even hit mile 1 of the race until you've crested it.  No joke - you climb that sucker for almost an entire mile.  And it's one of about 5 slightly shorter - but still brutal - bridge crossings.  As I crested the bridge at mile 20 or so, I glanced up and I saw my name on the sign.  I thought to myself, there is no way my name is on that sign; but since it was a good half-mile up, I had a lot of time to stare at it. I realized the sign was announcing a parkway named for a Major, the abbreviation of which is MAJ. 

I still felt like it was for me.

But by far the sharpest memory was the first time I wanted to walk all race, between miles 22 and 23.  I usually only walk at the very end if I absolutely must. And I had been on track to hit very close to my goal pace, making my fastest splits at miles 16, 18, then 20, even 22 - but miles 20-21 just did me in. I kept talking myself out of walking a little.  I kept telling myself how close I was.  I kept asking my Mom for her help.  I kept trying not to be queasy, but this time it didn't work; I was too sick and tired for mental energy to pump me back up.

Right when I thought I had to stop and walk, I rounded a corner and saw someone holding a sign that said your mother did not raise you to be a quitter. You're almost there. 

I forgot I felt like puking because I was too busy crying. I only walked parts of 24-26.       And I found out later that my parents had been watching the race on TV, hoping to see me pass by. 

So, I was right.  Mom HAD been there with me.   

Make no mistake about it, NYC is a very tough marathon. I still managed an 8 minute (15-second-per-mile) personal best, but I have a long way to go to the next level.  And I am obviously taking a good week to recover from this cold. Which is how you find me with enough time sitting on my ass to keep writing for this long.


Training, racing, and fundraising for New York this has been a most incredible experience.  And for that, I have a lot of wonderful people to thank. 

And I have a lot of (hopeful) plans for the Off-Season . . . and for 2014.

Stay tuned.

Walking Away

I'm walking away
From the troubles in my life
I'm walking away
Oh, to find a better day

-Craig David

 

 

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!!

 

CHILDREN OF ALL AGES!!!

 (disclaimer: actual children should probably not be reading my blog due to the salty language)

 

MARATHON SEASON

 

HAS BEGUN!!!!!

 

WOOHOO!! Lactate threshold testing week and marathon season ARE HERE!  (You won't hear me woo-hooing later when I actually have to do the LT tests.)

 

Thank GOD they weren't last week, though.  I can't believe I survived last week. Between recovery from vacation, work, and homework - it was what my one coworker calls "a shit show."

 

At work we're on deadline, and I spent about 16 hours on Saturday and Sunday alone working on a tough statistics assignment. It wasn't anything earth-shattering, it was just stuff I either haven't done in almost a year or haven't done yet.  So it was really hard to grasp from an online lecture. And this weekend I have another assignment like that, plus a project in my other class, AND I work 6 days of the week.  Plus marathon season starts.  Plus it's LT test week.

 

Help.
 

HELP!!!!!!!

 

Kidding.

 

(Or not.)

 

Yesterday I announced that my blog address had changed to reflect my appreciation for my Mom, The (real) Original MAJ - but I have made it no secret that my Dad is also one of my biggest sources of inspiration.  It's funny how we go through different stages of attitudes toward our parents as we age.  We go from they don't know what I'm feeling to maybe they know more than I thought to they know everything, let me ask them their opinion.  Now, I've always been close to them, so my parents just don't understand phase was remarkably short, but I still appreciate them more than I did when I was younger.

 

Anyway, so at one point yesterday I finally just gave up on my homework. I was in tears of frustration, my head hurt and I felt incredibly stupid.  That's when I remembered my dad telling me a story about one of his bosses who made him walk away from a really urgent problem to clear his head.  When he sat down for coffee and relaxed a bit, the solution came to him, clear as day.

 

Now, no magical solutions about my stats problems actually came to me when I walked away from it for a while (and, admittedly, I had to walk away three times - once for breakfast, once for lunch, and once for dinner) - but, I certainly felt less frustrated and brain-fogged when I returned.

 

When you return, it never seems as bad as it was.

We tend to think of walking away as abandoning a goal or giving up, but sometimes, walking away isn't permanent, and walking away from other things in our lives can give us perspective.  For example, I've walked away from this blog a million times and came back to read it and think, oh crap, was that really how I felt that day? I've even had relationships from which I or the other person walked away. At the time that they ended, I felt like my world was turned upside down, but then later on I would see both myself and that relationship in a totally different light and be able to appreciate what it was and how it had contributed to my life (and even, in some cases, appreciate that it no longer existed). 

 

In 2010, I walked away from triathlon.  Yep, I thought my world would end.  I'd never tri again, I would get slow, I'd get fat, whatever, whatever.  But it ended up being the best decision I made. I was able to decide if triathlon was what I really wanted (it was), if Ironman and coaching was really my goal (nope), and come back with a new appreciation for being able to move my body.  (Of course, recovering from surgery and radioactive iodine helped with that too, but you get the picture.)

 

This blog is often my way of "walking away."  It lets me sit down and read other people's workout tales, jokes, and life experiences.  It lets me vent about my own. It helps me understand my own reasoning.

 

And then, when I return to real life, it somehow doesn't ever seem as bad as it was.

 

Yesterday I thanked my Mom for encouraging me to be an original (even when it sometimes makes you feel odd, or alone.)  Today I'd like to thank my Dad for teaching me the importance of perspective.

 

Now, it's time for me to walk away from this blog for a while and accomplish some other things.



The Original MAJ - Part Deux

I have mentioned dedicating this year's marathon and my fundraising for the ACS to my Mom, who is battling gastric cancer.

This week, I decided to make it a little more official.

In honor of my mom, The (real) Original MAJ, one of the most unique and special people I know, I have moved my training blog to www.theoriginalmaj.com   My goal is that every time I open up this page to share my life or training thoughts, it will be a little reminder of where I come from.

Thanks, Mom, for always encouraging me to be an original..

Tour of the Original MAJ - New York 2013

I'm going HERE

This weekend I get to go on my first vacation in two years.  It's only a weekend, but it's a REAL vacation.  We're talking NO doctors, NO hanging out at the fam's house, NO getting up at 4am for races, not really even any training (expect general fitness to keep me from gaining 1000 pounds since I plan on eating some good food). I will actually get to come back to the hotel and kick my shoes off at the end of a day, eat at restaraunts I like, go to the beach, and walk around a LOT.

Mind you, I haven't had a full vacation in going on 10 years now.  The last time I went anywhere out of state for longer than 3 business days, not to see my parents or race, was around 2004 when I went to Cancun for a full week with one of my best friends.  Don't get me wrong, I love going to race. And I have the best family and friends who support me every birthday and Christmas with race entry fees because they've all come to realize that's all I want.  But there's something to be said about that not-having-to-watch-what-you-eat-and-sleeping-past-4am part.

Something else happened this week that is of note (besides Baby's First PET Scan - a WEIRD experience. More about that later). 

A while back I told you the story of how I became The Original MAJ.  I'm reviving that tale for a reason, so bear with me.  I have done the American Diabates Association Tour de Cure Century two or three years now, and the last few years have been in honor of my mom, who is the REAL Original MAJ, because she is diabetic.  Never in a million years did I guess that she would get diagnosed with cancer right before this year's ride. 

As you might also recall, I love to give things - especially races and events - a fun name.  I called 2012's ride The Tour de Mom.  I called Rocket City 2012 El Cinco.  So it seemed only fitting that I find a good name for New York 2013.

Trust me, I started with the cheesy New York references. I'm in a New York State of Mind;New York, I Love You, But You're Bringin Me Down (my time, that is); Start Spreading the News; I'm Taking a Bite out of The Big Apple; 5 Boroughs in 5 Hours (ok, so I still like that one since I'm still aiming for that damn sub-5-hour mark!)


And then I was looking at my link for donations for the ACS this year.  They're always http://main.acsevents.org/goto/THISISWHEREYOURNAMEBELONGS.  I usually pick "Meggan Ann" as my name (since, you know, it is.)

This year, as a nod to my Mom, the best race spectator I have ever had and now a fellow survivor - and to those who've called me MAJ most of my adult life - I made it http://main.acsevents.org/goto/MAJ

So from now on I'm going to call my effort to hit 50 states The Tour of the Original MAJ.  This will be a perpetual sign of respect and appreciation for my roots.

Tour of the Original MAJ, Stop 1: Philly 2007
Tour of the Original MAJ, Stop 2: Disney 2010
Tour of the Original MAJ, Stop 3: Rock & Roll New Orleans 2011
Tour of the Original MAJ, Stop 4: Savannah 2011
Tour of the Original MAJ, Stop 5: Huntsville 2012

This year Tour of the Original MAJ returns to the site of its inception in the tri-state area with a stop in New York for 2013.

Ti'm to get the tour bus ready!

The Original MAJ

I am feeling somewhat nostalgic this holiday season.  Maybe it's because I am without my parents this year. In any event, I am often asked how I became MAJ or The Original MAJ. 

So, here is the story.

Back in the 1960s, when my parents were newlyweds and my mom was working in an office, she would sign memos and notes to her bosses with her initials, MAJ, rather than writing out her whole name. Back in those days, memos and notes were what we now consider email. Eventually this stuck, as it tends to do when your initials spell a real name, and the people with whom she worked began calling her MADGE instead of her real name.

In the early 2000s, when I was working in an office, I signed a lot of e-mails with MY inititals - MAJ - rather than writing out my whole name.  Without any of us knowing the story about how my mom became MAJ, my coworkers started calling *ME* MADGE instead of my real name.  This spread to my friends, professors, and anyone who ever got an e-mail from me.

Both of us were MADGE way before anyone decided to give Madonna that nickname.

When my mom found out that I was being called MAJ, too, we would I often joke that I am "MAJ, Junior" or that she is "The Original MAJ."  And so when I signed back up for Twitter a few years ago, mostly as an outlet for my workout tracking and to follow random colleges and celebs, that became my screen name.  "The Original MAJ" is both a reference to the idea that we are all originals and a nod to my mom.  So when I set up a Facebook fan page for my workout mis/adventures, I decided it was fitting for the address to be www.facebook.com/theoriginalmaj

I am enjoying a few more weeks of sporadic workouts here and there, and then in January the training for the 2012 TOUR DE MOM begins. 

The Original MAJ rides again.