runDFMC

26.2 miles. 1 cause. 4 days until Race Day $782 from fundraising goal. Want to donate? Follow this link: http://www.rundfmc.org/2016/haleyc

[hrunsthebostonmarathon]

4am the alarm sounded. I remember thinking how I wouldn’t run for another 7 hours – how far away that seemed. I got ready, checked my list twice and hopped in the car with the Lipsitz sisters. We boarded our school bus in the Boston Common and took a nice one hour drive to Hopkinton. “We have to run back….?” was a popular audible thought. When we finally arrived at our DFMC Refuge in Hopkinton (*perks = no Athlete’s Village for us) we planted next to an outlet and relaxed. The four hours in the host flew by – team photo, short mass in the church, ugly sweats contest and decorating our limbs with our inspirations. Before I knew it I was headed to my corral. I couldn’t help but reflect on the journey I had been on through this experience.

16 weeks ago I had stood at a different kind of start line – one I could only see clearly in hindsight. That cold December morning, I laced up my running shoes, put on my ankle brace and wrote ‘Aaron’ on my leg, for my teammate whose mother was recently diagnosed with cancer. I was to run 8 miles, the longest I had run since my half marathon in May. The route I chose was hillier than I expected, and I did not have a great time. The thought of my teammate’s name on my leg popped in to my head and ultimately got me by.

Admittedly, when I started this journey I could try to tell you why I was running because of the institute associated with my training, but ultimately I knew deep down I wasn’t sure. That run, and many of my first runs, were selfishly filled with thoughts of the 'winning’ (whatever that means) the split with the most recent assassin of my heart and simply the place I felt closest to my mom and dad. The gun sounded and I was off to Boston – I put one foot in front of the other and tried to feel their presence above anything else.

Navigating the 7,500 people that started moving their legs at the same time as me but at different paces was not as difficult as I thought, and the anxiety of this delaying my BQ goal faded. I was not able to go the pace I naturally run with the crowd, but my legs felt good regardless and I listened. Shortly after we started “Wake Me Up” by Avicii played through my headphones. I audibly laughed at the irony as he sung to me “wake me up when it’s all over.” I passed my first “entering” sign into Ashland just before the 5K mark and I was so excited. I had dreamed of seeing that sign from the day I started training. I was so far from that finish line on Boylston Street but for some reason seeing that first iconic sign made me realize I had already made it.

Framingham next. I think I passed the famous train tracks without knowing, but the energy was just as high. I then found myself alone with very few spectators running through a beautiful spot on a lake. “Downtown” by Macklemore was playing and I was so far from it. Apparently my playlist was all about the irony. It reminded me of a place I had been with Donna, and with the piece and quiet my mind wandered about how far I had come…

I was lost at the beginning of this journey and I knew it. I forced myself to dig into my training plan and I didn’t attend the first two months of group runs because I knew I needed to face myself. I needed to strengthen my mind before I could let myself get used to running with my team, a comradery I have now come to love. I knew getting across the finish line on Boylston that day would require only my mind, and the deepest darkest parts of it at that. I woke up before the sun, ran in single digits, explored Boston with my routes, and stared longingly at the Pru, dreaming of this very day. I ran mile after mile alone, and run after run I noticed a change. My runs became filled with thoughts of strength, and I achieved more mileage than I have ever covered. Every weekend, despite the Friday night scaries, I got it done. While I could tell you the things that plagued me once certainly still plague me, I can tell you they hurt less. Instead of feeling animosity I feel the love between long lost friends and, notably, instead of a giant loss I feel a presence in life stronger than I ever have before. I tried with all my might to feel that instead of the heat and ache in my legs.

Natick came next and the crowds grew. I ran through sprinklers in people’s front lawns to cool down. Was it hotter than they said it would be? My pace was on target for the most part according to my wrist band, but I knew with how hot I was I would have to play it by ear.

I entered the Wellesley Scream Tunnel and they were not joking. The pitch those girls can reach is mind-blowing and I think I was running faster just to escape it. I saw many men stopping at the girls' make-shift kissing booths. I smiled each time I saw it – it was nice to see so many of the Boston Marathon traditions I had only heard about in real life. Somewhere thereafter I finally entered the roads I had previously run and I could not have been more excited and more confused. My 21-miler went amazingly and I felt energized the entire time. Today was noticeably different. For one thing, it wasn’t 38 degrees like it was that day and my body could tell. My legs probably wondered what they were doing in shorts, not leggings and my lungs why we weren’t breathing the sharp chill of the New England air we had trained in. I knew today was not my BQ day at about halfway – but I was not going to let that stop me from trying. I simply ran how my body allowed, and if it got me over that finish line before 3:35 so be it. The ability to let go of the time pressure helped me tremendously, and I am quite proud of being able to do so without reprimanding myself. Now I just had to get to my siblings… 4 miles to go.

I climbed the hill of the 95 overpass and felt good. People were already walking at this point. My brain wondered why my feet were burning so bad and deduced that the pavement was probably pretty hot. Mile 16.. one more until water, electrolytes and my best friends. I passed Emily’s friends at Mile 17, tried to wave and then there they were: Jenna, Tim, Patrick, Beth and Steve cheering and jumping up and down. I tried to look excited, but I was exhausted. I grabbed my water from Tim and finished it in less than a mile – here we go.

I climbed the Firehouse Hill no problem. A man in front of me had two prosthetic legs and a shirt that said 2013 survivor. I tear up as I write this now, but I had no energy to do so then. All I knew was that if he could do this, I knew I was going to. The course looked so different with all the people. My visual cues from my training runs were hard to find, and as the sun beat down I found myself getting confused.

Hill 2, Mile 19ish. Don’t remember a thing honestly. I just had to stop typing to remember what it even looks like on a day that isn’t the Boston Marathon. I know it’s the hardest and I know I climbed it, but I couldn’t tell you anything else about my experience doing so.

Hill 3. The ultimate. The Heartbreaker. Mile 20-21. My coworker Rachel and I had planned out a spot that she would be to hand me a Gatorade. All I could think about was that Gatorade. This hill is not a misnomer. I have climbed it upwards of 20 times during my training, and on my 21 miler at mile 19 without problem, but something about today was different. The heat was getting to me and I wanted the blue Gatorade goodness so badly. I ran along the fence on the side of the road Rachel would be until I saw her. My eyes lit up under my sunglasses and I got as excited as I could. I was almost at the top when I grabbed the Gatorade. My legs were (*sort of*) moving but my mind was not. I had to drink this. I walked for about a minute to chug it and then continued up the hill to finish. I would say about 10% of the people around me were actually running at the top. To get up I thought of the names on my back, my friend's late father, the tattoo on my arm, and a friend’s words to me the night before the race: you’re going to have the best and worst times tomorrow…. so this is what he meant I thought. When I crested the hill, the smell of sausage smoke and horribly cheap beer plagued my nose. Welcome to BC, Haley. I almost threw up but a combination of the given life from the Gatorade and the BC frat boys’ screaming and beer made me sprint down the hill. It was my fastest mile since I saw my siblings.

I kept running with the Gatorade and entered Cleveland Circle. The only thing I remember out of the entire crowd is seeing a Sam Adams cut out and thinking “ok you gotta run 4 more miles until you get a 26.2″ …at this point I was accepting inspiration from anything. The rest of Beacon Street is a blur until Coolidge Corner. I am surprised I was even running given the amount of information I don’t remember. When I got to CC I knew my other coworkers would be here so I started to look for them. I was confused, dazed and light headed. I couldn’t concentrate on the faces in the crowd. I passed CC and out of the corner of my eye saw two people sprinting down the street. I thought they were calling my name so I turned to look. As I did so, I started to lose my balance and tilt into the woman next to me. I quickly returned my head to face forward and vowed that maybe I should do so for the next 3 miles.

Mile 25. The DFMC mile. I could not wait to get here. I wanted to stop and see Sydney, as I knew my BQ dreams had passed, so before I arrived where they would be I grabbed some water so I could be coherent. As I slowed to drink it some BU kid was cheering me on, but at that point I was intolerant and my inspiration to run faster was to get away from his loudness. Mile 25 was magical. I know that my face in the pictures does not accurately portray how I was feeling. I was so concentrated on finding Sydney, that when I entered Kenmore Square having failed to do so I felt more defeated than on any of the previous 25 miles. Regardless, I had to carry on. There it was, the iconic Citgo sign. I had dreamed of this moment for months and I barely had enough brain power to keep my legs moving. I tried to take it in. I told my brain that the right on Hereford was coming and we had to pay attention. This was the moment to remember.

I don’t. Not even a little. The pictures show me doing it, but with all the people everything looks very different. I turned left onto Boylston street and there it was: the finish line. Now luckily, the DFMC alum had graciously reminded us that it was still a half mile away after the turn, and to not underestimate the power of finish line mirage. I passed the Pru and eventually the mile marker that said Mile 26. Here I was 0.2 miles away from making my dream come true. My watch was at 3:44 and I told myself we were finishing at 3:45. I would love to see a video of how slow I was running at this point when I thought I was sprinting. I was so excited, but couldn’t show it. After seeing the pictures I’m actually pretty convinced the neurons to the muscles that control my facial expressions just stopped receiving signals. 26.1…. 26.2. “That that don’t kill you only makes you stronger” blasted through my headphones. I guess the playlist irony was done for the day. I proceeded down the chute to get food, my poptart coat and my medal (*fell into the guy who gave me my medal because I was so dizzy* *~beauty and grace*~*). I did it. In 3 hours and 45 minutes I ran the Boston Marathon, and while I knew I could do WAY better … it still felt like the greatest accomplishment of my life up to that day.

That is partly because my legs ran a distance I don't even drive regularly and because 16 weeks ago I was fragile-minded, completely different person. But that day, I stood in the corral in Hopkinton ready for whatever came my way in the next three hours, and the next three decades. Because of that fact i knew I had already crossed my finish line. The 26.2 miles were just the icing on the cake.

Thanks for the journey together. I'll be back for you Boston.

xo

-H

[hrunsthebostonmarathon]

This time tomorrow I’ll be sitting in the DFMC refuge in Hopkinton awaiting my time to start running. The weather is looking great, I feel ready and I’m as excited as ever. To start the race next to my best friends is icing on the cake of my DFMC experience and I’m going to try and take in every single moment to the fullest extent tomorrow. I’m so lucky to have so many friends and family that are going to be out there cheering for me. One special lady won’t be with them, but I know she’ll be running right along side me. Here’s why I’m running for my mom: Donna Scheid.

When I was 17 my mother’s body turned against her. Scans revealed a lemon-sized mass in her brain that would have to be removed with surgery. She came out bruised from broken facial bones, but had the mentality of a champion: “you should see the other guy” she’d joke with the nurses. I will never forget holding her hand when the neurologist spoke with us weeks later and told us it was cancer. We went to Wegmans after and Pete and Mom went to one aisle, and I went to another. I stood in front of the mac and cheese and cried until I could pull it together. She would need me together, I told myself.

My life was never the same after that day. I spent the summer before college driving my mom back and forth from radiation treatments. Her cancer remained in remission until the following summer. She received more treatment and began a steep decline in September. At the beginning of October I received a knock on my door from the RA, my stepdad and sister standing behind her, and I knew. I packed up my stuff and returned home to spend what little time my mom had left near her side.

Nothing in my life up to this point had prepared me to say goodbye to my other parent. The unfairness resounded in my head, but it was fleeting. I could tell my mother was scared, but only to leave us behind and not for her own fate. Her bravery shone through every medication running through her veins, and it is something that I will never forget and has greatly influenced me in the years I have lived without her. In our last conversation she told me she knew I would be okay, and that I need not be scared – to be the woman she raised me to be.

Memories flashed through my head on a reel that wouldn’t shut off. The time we hiked our first High Peak together, the time I screamed the F word for the first time … in front of her, the time she drove me 6 hours home from soccer camp so I could put our cat to sleep and then 6 hours back the next day, our last hike just a few months before this, her face as I surprised her by singing at graduation, the hug she gave me after telling me dad died, every mocha frappuccino she bought to make breaking my ankle a little less painful. I asked myself how I would live without her every single second of those three weeks, and I’m still asking myself today.

She was not a regular mom, she was truly my greatest friend. She was always in my corner and always correct, even when I was absolutely sure she wasn’t. She gave advice I never believed until hindsight, supported every decision I made and healed every broken heart. Just a couple days before she took her last breaths we found a little note on her vanity in the bathroom. It read:

“How you climb up the mountain is just as important as how you get down the mountain, and, so it is with life, which for many of us becomes one big gigantic test followed by one big gigantic lesson. In the end it all comes down to one word, Grace. It’s how you accept winning and losing, good luck and back luck, the darkness and the light.”

I know it’s no coincidence that we found this. It was her last gift, a reminder that we would be okay. Some days without her are particularly hard, but this saying has become my beacon of light, the healer of every broken heart, the mantra by which I aim to live, and what keeps me going over every mountain and through every valley. I know it will resound in my head on Monday over and over and over.

My mothers last words to me beat in my head like a drum “love you”, “love you”, “love you.” She taught me everything I need to know about living a full life, and now I live mine for the both of us. That’s why I’m going out there tomorrow. This was just as much her dream as it is mine and I am going to get her those 26.2 miles and over that finish line no matter what.

Cheryl Strayed once wrote, “…the death of my mother was the thing that made me believe the most deeply in my safety: nothing bad could happen to me, I thought. The worst thing already had,” and I believe this to be true about tomorrow. Nothing I will face could every be as tough as losing her, and further, never as tough as my mother’s battle, which she bravely faced every step of the way. I run to honor all she has done for me. Not once since she left this earth has her life stopped influencing mine. While living without her will never be something I get used to, running this marathon for her allowed me to feel her so viscerally, and healed some more broken pieces.

She once told me to “never stop climbing” and when I get to those Newton Hills tomorrow, that’s exactly what I am going to do.

See you out there, Mom.

xo

-H

[hrunsthebostonmarathon]

2 days to go! Can’t believe it’s so soon! My excitement level is so freaking high and I just can’t wait until that gun goes off and I’m running. Nerves are minimal, just trying to focus on sleeping enough since I probably won't be able to sleep much Sunday. As I’ve told many of you, my goal is to finish the race with a smile on my face. With that, it’s as beautiful a day as any to talk about why I’m running for some special ladies, The Breiner Women: Judy, Linda and Susie.

It was early March when things started to take a turn for the worst. Aunt Judy, my godmother, had been diagnosed with lung cancer a year prior and after rounds of chemo and treatment her body was taking a sharp turn against her. I was down in Ithaca with a snowstorm rapidly approaching, but my mom was up in Rochester alone. I made the call to skip class and come be with her the next day. I woke up the morning of March 7th, 2011 to 6 feet of snow in the parking lot. I called Donna in tears -- I had to be there for her. After many calls to the Ithaca College Grounds Department I went outside with my stuff, climbed through piles of 8 foot snow drifts and to my car, which they had specifically  come to plow out so I could go home. For this I am forever thankful. I drove the hour and a half home to my mom and family and that day my Aunt Judy took her last breaths. Being there to hold my mom’s hand for this is something I will forever hold dear to my heart. To hear “hey jude” blasting through the house as we all exchanged hugs and let tears roll down our faces are irreplaceable memories.

I often try to put myself in my mom’s shoes of what she felt on that March day. She had been just diagnosed with cancer herself, already lost 3 siblings, and watched the disease that inhabited her own body take another person that she loved so dearly. I try but I fail. The truth is that I can’t imagine, and it pains me to try. The Breiner Women are stronger than most. They have seen more loss in their young lives than most will ever see. After losing our Aunt Susie to thyroid cancer in 1989, grandma and grandpa in the subsequent years, and both my mom and Aunt Judy in 2011, my Aunt Linda had lost both parents, all of her sisters and two brothers. I simply cannot fathom the strength it takes to live with that type of loss.

I admire my Aunt Linda’s resilience in ways that can only be conveyed as undescribable. I especially cannot imagine the last 5 years of my life without her. Through every loss she has been my beacon of light, my reminder that while things can get tough there is always a glass of wine to drink, hike to hike or garden to tend to. She has honored her brothers and sisters in the most beautiful ways, and has always made sure that the children they left behind are cared for as her own. She cheered for me as I moved my tassel from right to left, followed every day the 4K and makes sure her name pops up in my email inbox every once in a while to make me smile. I love the way just the thought of one of her ‘Breiner Moments’ makes me laugh out loud, and the pride I hear in her voice when I call her and tell her what I am up to. I do not have my mom anymore, but her sister makes the gaping loss of our family members seem so much smaller, and I am forever grateful.

The Breiner Women are separate people, but to me they represent the woman I was raised to be: strong, independent, loving, and kind-hearted. When my mother climbed Mt. Marcy on her 50th birthday, both Judy and Linda decided to hike along with her and made it to the top. On Monday I know I will need the spirit they had on that mountain to get me over the finish line. While cancer has defeated this family four times I am determined to never stop fighting for them, as they never stop(ped) fighting for me. They are the women who I aspire to be in 30 years, and the inspiration of this run. I cannot thank them enough for teaching me how to embrace my inner Breiner, taking care of me in the face of loss and being the best example of mothers, sisters and friends. I run for them, in honor of them, and in honor of the physical and emotional battles they have had to face. They have shown me what it takes to fight, and that is exactly what I’ll do on Monday to make them proud.

See you out there, ladies.

xo

-H

[hrunsthebostonmarathon]

AH. I just picked up my bib and checked in with DFMC and now I’m just enjoying the weekend! It’s crazy to think we’re only three days away. I’m really excited and the energy in the city today has me feeling ready to go. Today at DFMC check in we received a little something for our Patient Partners so today I decided to write a little about why I’m running for the strongest 8 year old I’ve ever met: Sydney.

Each year DFMC runners can apply to the Patient Partner Program, in which they are paired with a pediatric patient to run in honor of. This year I was accepted to the program and was matched with 8 year old Sydney, and what a joy it has been. Sydney received a bone marrow transplant from her brave sister and was recovering most of the season. Because of this we missed our first opportunity to meet each other so I rallied my friends and family to makes cards and drawings to send to her to lift her spirits. When we finally met last month I can honestly say it was one of the greatest days of my life. She has such a vivacity for life and a giving nature. When asked what we should write on the poster we were making for her she said “You Rock Runners!” She also gives the best hugs.

Being Sydney’s runner has truly changed my life. She has taught me so much about the meaning of the word brave, and brought light to my life that I know will never dim. On Monday she will be out there at mile 25 and I know if I have any fight in me the image of seeing her there cheering will get me all the way back to Boston. I am so honored to run for her, her sister and her entire family. They have truly blessed my life in ways I never imagined and gotten me through some of my hardest runs. They have made DFMC more than just a team of runners, and the Boston Marathon more than just 26.2 miles. I cannot wait to run with her name on my back, carrying me the entire way back home.

See you out there, Sydney.

xo

-H

[hrunsthebostonmarathon]

Today I woke up after a good rest and saw I had raised OVER $9,000. That is absolutely incredible. I am so grateful and the dollars we are raising together are truly chasing lives. One step at a time we are going to change the face of cancer, and I cannot wait to see it. Further, all the messages I received on yesterdays post were so touching. I cannot thank you all enough for your kind words. I would not say it is not easy to live life without your parents in your 20s, but I truly have the world’s greatest support system to keep smiling and laughing in through every up and down life throws my way.

This morning I woke up at 5:15 and ran my VERY LAST training run. A tempo run for 3 miles. I was feeling 12493 types of emotions about it and knew today I would write about my other family. I run for them, their loved ones, and our time spent together that summer. Here’s why I’m running for my San Clan.

On Friday May 29th, 2014 I was dropped in the Ulman Cancer Fund parking lot in Baltimore, Maryland with a bike, a duffel and a backpack. That was it. I was petrified. I was scheduled to leave to cross the country on that bike on Sunday.  I thought to myself, “what the heck am I doing here,” roughly 2000 times in the parking lot alone and hoped that fate wasn’t leading me astray. The list of reasons I was going resounded my head until so the little voice would temporarily shut up: "I was there for my mom, I spent the winter raising roughly $8600, I’m going to survive, I’m going to make friends, people always have a great time." Eventually, in what can only be described as a blur of a weekend, I showed up at send off. The ceremonial dipping of the tires occurred in the Baltimore Harbor and we were off to La Plata, MD. A quick 66 miles away. Could I bike 60 miles? Would the group of only guys I was riding with slow down if I couldn’t keep up? Would anyone talk to me? I was not sure of the answers to these questions, but life does not wait for answers and I was off on two wheels.

When told people what I had decided to do the reaction I got most often was “WHAT?” and “why....?" Amongst a competitive group of classmates destined for med school and Ph.D.s, I chose to get on a bike for the summer. “What” is a question I knew the answer to, but “why” is a question I can only truly answer in hindsight. I was there for a journey to come back from the loss of my mother. To no longer feel the gaping void of a loss but to actually start living my life for the both of us, to bond with others who with a connection to cancer, to make a new family, and to learn how to get through anything. That is what the San Clan gave to me.

Not a day since I left that San Diego beach have I not thought of them. The memory of some days certainly stuck out as I trained my mind to run 26.2 miles: the day we got a total of 37 flats, the day I climbed my first Cat hill, the day Brad saved me on a mountain, crossing the desert in 115 degree heat. These memories got me through my toughest days of running and my darkest days since our return from San Diego. Whether it was 10 miles I was facing or a bad day at work I always found myself wondering how could I not keep going? We biked across America.

One of the greatest parts about the 4K is that when I look back on those memories when I’m running I am not inspired about what I accomplished, but what we accomplished. I don’t think of the time I biked across the desert but of Aaron writing “this is nothing compared to a cancer patient” on his leg to keep him going the full 115 miles; I don’t think of what it felt like to get to the top of that cat hill, but of Jeremy’s words of encouragement as he rode back with me to get up it; not of the horrible mood our 37 flats day put us in, but of the the line of people on the bridge crossing the Mississippi laughing and changing their flats. Notably, I don’t think of the struggle I was facing to climb a mountain in New Mexico, but of when Brad asked me what my tattoo said to get me to fight my way up it. It is a saying now held with higher with meaning that will carry me home on Monday.

My inspiration is them. I may have biked across the country but my pride in the journey was the experience that they gave me day in and day out. We were all there that summer for our own reasons, but our reasons quickly became each other’s. When Michelle’s grandma succumbed to her cancer last summer I felt the pain deeply along with her. When Aaron's mom was diagnosed with cancer in December our GroupMe lit up with support like the 4th of July and I screamed and cried at the universe my entire drive four hour drive to NYC. We were, and we still are, all fighting for each other. Since the day we left Baltimore that June day they have given me the mental strength to navigate any terrain, both on my bike and off. I am running on Monday not only for the family we created, but for every single one of their reasons to ride, as they have quickly become my reasons to run.

I may not rely on them for my food every day, but our passion to never shuttle our bikes instilled a level of mental toughness for which I am forever grateful. We are spread all over the map, but I know thinking of them on Monday, I'll find my way back home.

See you out there San Clan. xo

-H

[hrunsthebostonmarathon]

Yesterday I was able to reach the remarkable milestone of becoming a team Pacesetter at 8,000 dollars raised for the Claudia Adams Barr Program. I could not be more grateful for the support I have received – every single dollar, text message, email and favorite on my paranoid weather tweets has made an impact on me that I know will get me the 26.2 miles back to Boston. I cannot thank you all enough and I look forward to running for you and your loved ones on Monday.

Today is the day before Jenna arrives – I’m so ready for her to be here and my jitters are running high and I’m super excited because of it. I kind of knew the only way to calm myself down was to write about a HUGE piece of why I’m running. With only five days left to go, and a month before his birthday, here is why I’m running for my father – Richard Coleman.

When we were younger we used to fly down to the Outer Banks every summer in my father’s 5 seat Cessna plane to spend a week on the beach with our cousins. The plane rides were full of Disney sing-a-longs, capri suns, fruit roll-ups, Jenna and Patrick fighting over copilot, and listening to dad talk to the tower over the headset. One trip home was particularly memorable. I was probably 7 and our flight out of North Carolina had been delayed for some reason. I was complaining and dad gave me a Powerade to drink to keep me occupied. I proceeded to chug the entire thing before take off and we made it probably 30 minutes into the air before I was in a load of trouble. This single engine Cessna certainly did not have a bathroom. In fact were squeezed so tight there was hardly room for any activity at all. But there was only one option for seven year old Haley: I had to go. I told dad to which he probably responded with “hold it” and continued to be annoyed while I pestered him. I am not entirely sure what I expected him to do about it. Here we were miles into the sky and I had to pee – “tough luck” I would say to my fictional kid. But no. After he reached what I can only imagine was his maximum allowance of annoyance by a 7 year old, he made a call and there we were, making an emergency landing in the middle of no where so 7 year old me could go to the bathroom.

Just three years later I would never see my dad again. Many of you already know this about me and just as many of you probably do not. I did not get the chance to know him long, but I cherish my emergency landing memory as it shows me of the kind of man he was without ever having known him beyond the age of 10. On November 14th, 2002 he was returning home from a business trip in his Cessna and lost engine power over the University of Rochester – just short of the runway he was aiming for. Eye witnesses after the crash recounted what they saw as “heroic”. At a busy 5pm on a Thursday, he tried hard and managed to avoid every major hospital and academic building, landing in a field just shy of the Rochester Airport runway. Afterward, I refused to leave my ducky pajamas for a week and I chose to wear yellow to his funeral. I told my mom I thought black was too sad and I wanted people to have some light that day, “that’s what dad would want,” I said. And there I stood, in a sea of black, in my yellow shirt and said goodbye to my father.

While my time was short, my dad imparted enough love, wisdom, jokes and heroism to lead me through the rest of my life. As I’ve gotten older I have lost the memory of what his voice sounds like, what my life was like when he was around, but have gained a profound understanding of the impact he had on my life. His grave reads the words of a saying he spoke often: “live life with your heart,” and that is exactly what he showed us how to do. All the time I hear my family and father’s friends telling me how much I am like him, and it is the greatest compliment. For years I prided myself on how I looked so much like him because it was how I recognized I was still connected to him. While I certainly still appreciate this fact every day, I now see that while we only had 10 years together, I ended up with so many of his best qualities. It is a reminder that with every joke I crack and every tear I shed a piece of him will always live on as a piece of me.

My father was willing to do anything for his kids (see: story about emergency landing a plane) and I know if he were here he would probably be right beside me running on Monday. I know I would not be running this race without the impact he had on the person I have become. I miss him every day, but I cannot think of a better way to thank him for all the fish sticks, Ralph and Rosie’s Pizza, love, sacrifices and laughs than to run this marathon in his memory. He is always with me, tucked away in my heart and probably coming up with the jokes I tell.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this year our singlets were chosen to be the brightest yellow that you could find. I know that with every step I take on Monday, and every day for the rest of my life, he takes with me.

See you out there, Dad.

xo

-H

[hrunsthebostonmarathon]

6 days to go! Test is over and all eyes are on the prize. Was able to get a good nights sleep last night for the first time in days and woke up feeling the most refreshed I've felt in days. Plus *bonus* woke up to an email from Tim that was really encouraging and put my nerves at a steady excitement level. I'm ready for that gun to go off and run my little heart out. A former DFMC runner posted in our group this morning with an inspirational story of her journey in the 2007 Boston Marathon with Dana Farber. I was greatly inspired by the words she chose to end her post with and thought I'd share: "Try hard to take your race out of the context of the experience of others and know that above all, DFMC honors the effort, the right to be there, the reason for being there, and the greater purpose of the experience of putting one foot in front of the other. You're curing cancer here. One of your dollars may buy the slide or the test tube that holds the answer. Each of your steps is valiant and important on so many levels."

Given the extra pep in my step this morning I asked myself who I should write about today and the answer was obvious: Jamie.

For those of you who don't know, Jamie Roberts was a fellow cyclist on the 2014 Portland 4K for Cancer team. On June 13th, 2014 she was fatally struck on the side of the road while changing a flat enroute to Lexington, KY. In her 4K profile, Jamie wrote, "I would love nothing more than to inspire someone else". I think "someone else" is an understatement of the impact of her life. She has inspired thousands. Following her death, we marked our miles on the road as "Miles for Jamie" and logged them in a Facebook group created by her teammates and close friends. Their mission: collect enough miles from people's activities (running, walking, biking etc.) to get her spirit to Portland. With the miles logged by friends, family, 4K riders and runners, and strangers Jamie not only made it to Portland, but rounded the earth twice. The beautiful thing about Jamie was you did not have to know her to feel the impact of her life. I will never forget standing there hearing the news that a fellow rider had died. I remember the bubble that the 4K put me in bursting into pieces and dropping me thousands of feet to the ground. It hurt like hell, and it felt uneasy. I did not know her, but I know on some level that I did. We were all out there that summer for one reason: to support young adults going through cancer. I knew the kind of people that embarked on the 4K for Cancer journey and whether you know them or not, they are immediate family. In the moments that filled the silence after my bubble burst I remember looking around at my teammates. I saw their tears and their jaws on the ground of that Clemson, SC campsite, and this was the first time I really understood what they meant to me. We had only known each other 13 days, but they were my family. I thought to myself over and over again that I could not imagine losing one of them, and my heart ached to be with Team Portland. The impact of Jamie on me personally was profound and I can honestly say not a day has gone by since that June day that I have not thought of her. Her name is inspiration enough to get through anything. So many times on the 4K, in my training, in my half marathon, in life I have wanted to say "no" to whatever was thrown my way. But then I think of Jamie. Jamie doesn't get to say "no" anymore. She doesn't get to complain that it's 115 degrees and she's biking across a desert; she doesn't get to wake up at 5am to run 10 miles; she doesn't get to feel the ache in her legs after a long run. I get to do those things because I'm here breathing and trying to live the best life I can. Whenever I want to say no I think of how Jamie does not get that option, and therefore neither should I. I hope to carry her every where that I go. I feel her presence around me all the time: when work makes me realize the actual difference in the life of a patient, when I see Emily laughing at a joke or eating a hot dog on a Saturday night, when I'm riding my bicycle and look down and see my 4KJR sticker, every time I lace up my shoes and write her name in sharpie on the back of my leg. I have said before that Jamie deserves to see it all, and running the Boston Marathon in her honor is a small piece of what I can do to accomplish that. I know she'll be there on race day pushing Emily, Amy and myself to get over those hills, to see every famous turn and reach that finish line with us. Jamie may no longer be with us, but she will never be forgotten. Her love for hotdogs, mission to inspire and vivacity for life live on in all those her impact has reached. And that is a undeniably beautiful thing. See you out there, Jamie. xo

-H

[hrunsthebostonmarathon]

Just a week from the big day! Yes, I am getting nervous & excited. I have an important test tonight that has luckily tied up all my stress up to now. It’s all I can do to focus on the content and not on the fact Jenna will be here so soon. The light at the end of the tunnel is near though and I can’t wait to have all eyes on the race.

Today I felt it best to write a little about my Gram. She passed away from non-smokers lung cancer about two weeks before we lost my mom in 2011, and she is an integral part of my inspiration and decision to run this race. She was the only grandparent in my life, and played an important role in making our Coleman family so tightly knit. After going away to college I did not see her as much, but made sure to make the effort when I was home, especially upon her diagnosis. One of my last memories of her is a visit with my sister the summer before she passed. During our time together that afternoon she openly spoke to us about what it was like to lose her son. This conversation has stuck with me to this day and I think of it often: how awful it must have been to lose him so tragically.

Namely, she told us her story of the last Thanksgiving Dad was around. He couldn’t make the mashed potatoes right and she had to come over and help him figure out. She got there, helped him out and said, “Rick I’m not going to be around forever to help you out with these things, you’re going to have to figure it out sometimes.” She was visibly crying at this point in recounting this memory. She continued and explained how this wasn’t supposed to go and he was supposed to say goodbye to her first. I come back to this story often. It pops into my head seemingly at random, but I always remember how I felt listening to her talk. It was the closest I ever felt to her, and her words that day have gotten me up and over many a mountain, and across many desert days on my bicycle.

When my father died, my Gram gave him her spot next to my grandfather in the graveyard. It took me many years to understand the meaning behind this gesture, but from where I am today I see it as an embodiment of all the ways I remember my Gram: kind, loving, giving, and willing to sacrifice for her children (and their children). She spent her life surrounding us with so much love, lunch dates, and the world’s best mac and cheese that could ever be made (s/o to Linds for spending so much time mastering this for us so we can still have it today). There are so many things I will remember her but what I have discovered now that I’m older and she is no longer with us is this: she raised a son to value living life with his heart, and he raised a four kids who try to do the same. I know a piece of her is a piece of me because of this and I know, through that piece, she’ll be with me out on that course next Monday.

See you out there, Gram.

xo

-H

[hrunsthebostonmarathon]

Every day from now until the day before the Marathon I’m going to be posting something about one of the (many) reasons I’m running. At our last (*tears*) group run our coach, Jack Fultz, explained that one of the best ways to curb the anxiety as the day approaches to focus hard on why we’re running, and less on the actual running part. To focus on remembering why we said no to all of those Friday night plans and instead woke up at god knows what hour on Saturday mornings, to go run in the snow/rain/sleet/sun freezing cold New England temperatures. Obviously 7 days will not begin to cover how many of you I’ll be carrying with me on race day, but it will help me focus on the excitement and less on the anxiety part of running the 26.2 miles and hopefully offers you some greater insight into why I’m doing this.

Since today is National Sibling day it only felt right to start with the greatest people in my life. Jenna, Patrick, Emily, Tim and Beth: words truly cannot begin to explain. First of all shout out to Tim because he actually MADE my training plan so I quite literally would not be here without him. These folks have been the world’s best cheerleaders. We have seen so much in our young lives, things that could make the world go dark, but it truly could never get that dark with my siblings a phone call or train ride away. We have created a bond that is so very special, and that no distance, cell phone data overage or hangry episode could every disrupt. When I look back on my greatest accomplishments to date I don’t see the diploma, the job offer email, or the bike, I see them: their cheering faces in the crowd, the beers and laughed shared, the funny faces made. They have hit the “share” button on Facebook more times than I can count, spent copious amounts of time editing videos for me to post to gather donations, and always offered text encouragement on Saturday mornings when I had a long run. 

I’m running to honor them, but that seems like an understated way to say what I really mean. What I really want to emphasize is all the ways they have sacrificed to support me over the years -- all the loud screams, laughs, beers clinked, flights bought, miles driven and time taken off from work. I know that 26.2 miles with their names on the back of my singlet will not seem like much to many, but the thought of them at the finish will get me through the toughest times on the course. I know I’ll be looking forward to seeing them as I approach the Newton firehouse, and I’ll carry them up and over Heartbreak Hill (.....let’s be real *hills) to see them again just before I finish. They have once again come together to do whatever they could to be here for me and offer me this support and I can’t thank them enough. Our bond is the greatest aspect of my life, and what makes me the best version of myself.

I wrote once that you never know what will happen when your mom comes home and says “I have a brain tumor, I’m going into surgery tomorrow”. That’s absolutely true, I had no idea what was going to happen. I remember thinking all those years ago when Donna broke that news “it’ll be okay, I have my siblings”, and that could not be more true today.

I love you guys. See you out there.

xo

H

[hrunsthebostonmarathon]

up da mountain.

Running, cute dogs, new Patriots players, and Cheryl Strayed*

*not my dating profile

*definitely could be.

Anyway. 

Training

Saturday is my LONGEST RUN EVER. I’ll be slip sliding away for 14 miles. The official longest I have ever run. And only 12 miles short of what I’ll be running total.... I’m dizzy. Life on the treadmill has been going well. My ankle no longer inflates like a balloon or goes numb when I’m running and I’m not wearing my brace except outdoors so I’m calling that progress.

This week I’ve been quite sick so just motivating myself to run was getting a bit difficult. As I was sniffling and coughing up a storm on the MBTA, dreading putting on my workout clothes upon getting home, I thought about my teammates, both past and present, that have accomplished incredible athletic feats while fighting cancer. I didn’t feel so sick anymore. I knew that if they could run 26.2 miles I could run 6 on a treadmill before climbing into bed tonight. My treadmill runs have actually been passing quickly as I prepare to apply to PA school since I spend most of the hours writing and organizing my personal statement in my head. The fond memories of mom that I’m writing about motivate me to keep going and it’s extremely productive. 

School starts again Monday so I’ll be back to going to Harvard’s campus 3 times a week for class. Lots and lots of planning going into this semester since I’ll have to balance work, school and the height of training mode. I’m so ready to be busy again though! Feels like a dream that I’ll be ready to apply to school come May. Can’t wait to continue my education in a field that can make a difference for so many patients with cancer.

Fundraising

Us ladies created a Super Bowl Square fundraiser and you can find the information about purchasing squares here and ALSO you can with $1,000 just from a $30 square! We are really excited about this and it would be a great opportunity for us to raise a ton of money for Dana-Farber. We’re asking people to share the link around with their family and coworkers as well. 2 weeks to the Super Bowl!!

If you’re interested in donating but don’t like squares my fundraising page can be found by clicking this. Any amount can change the life of a cancer patient at Dana-Farber through research discovery. I’m amazed and humbled by the work we’re doing every single day. Share the page with anyone you think would be interested in donating and send them my way! I’d be happy to talk to them.

Patient Partner

This weekend I meet my patient partner at the Meet Your Match party! All I know thus far is that she’s 7 and named Sydney. I had an email exchange with her mom and I’m REALLY excited to meet their whole family. I know that Saturday will be really meaningful for me beyond the miles I’ll cover by foot. I sincerely can not wait. 

everyone needs some Cheryl inspo sometimes. On my runs it’s pretty much every mile.

-H

[hrunsthebostonmarathon]

hi everyone! Happy New Year. As you can see we celebrated in style in the Coleman/Mooney/Smallidge clan. 2016 means marathon year! I have officially paid the B.A.A and registered for the 120th running of the Boston Marathon! There are so many updates so I guess we’ll start with the obvious.

Training

Training is in full swing. Tim helped me in altering the plan we were given so that it was more familiar and fit better with my schedule. I’ve been running 4 times a week and cross training or resting the other days. One of my major concerns was that I hurt my ankle pretty bad back in August moving Patrick and Beth into their new apartment. It was still causing me trouble months later with swelling and pain. However, it seems to be holding up nicely on the runs which I was pleasantly surprised to find out.

As of now I’m up to 11 miles. Biggest weakness: hills. Amount of hills in Boston Marathon: too many. Knowing this, and living on the marathon route, I decided to run some of the Newton hills in reverse. Going down the hills and thinking about running up them on April 18th was quite terrifying, but I was able to get a taste of that as I rounded out my run by coming back up from Newton on Beacon.

26.2 miles is as long way. I always wondered what I would think about running for that long (besides the obvious: “ow, ow, ow, ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh another hill”). Running for DFMC makes it pretty easy to pass the time. I was recently given some basic information about my patient partner, who I’ll get the opportunity to meet January 23rd at the ‘Meet Your Match’ party here at Dana Farber. I think about her often as I run, and it helps me cloud out “ow” and “no“. I also like to think about what it’s going to be like on April 18th. Last year, despite the horrible weather, people still lined the streets and screamed for strangers. How amazing. I can’t wait to be a part of it and think about what it will be like to see my siblings and friends lining the streets I’ve come to love to cheer me on. It’s going to be incredible.

Fundraising

Also making some moves in this department. So many people have generously thought of me during the holiday season and I’m so grateful. We still have a long way to go! I have to raise a minimum of $5,000 (a number set by the B.A.A), but certainly want to do my part in raising more than that for this incredible fund. I’m so excited to have this unique opportunity and appreciate your support in helping me make a difference in the cancer world. Any little bit helps to reach the goal of a world without cancer. We’re currently trying to get ready some Super Bowl Squares to buy for fundraising so keep your eyes peeled in the coming days!

Also if you have any brilliant ideas for fundraising we are very open to them :)

Music

So here’s my list of current songs annotated with shoutouts where deserved. I ran 11 miles last weekend and went through all of this music. In desperate need for more. Send your fave running songs my way!!

Wild Wild Love - Pitbull (shout out to the Sassquad... obviously this is the first on the playlist)

Ghost - Halsey

I Really Like You - Carly Rae (shoutout Tom Hanks in this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qV5lzRHrGeg)

Shut up and Dance- Walk the Moon

I Don’t Mind - Usher

What Do You Mean - Bieber

Where are U Now - Bieber

Latch - Disclosure (shoutout to my San Clan)

Bang Bang- Jessie J

Confident - Demi Lovato

A Sky Full of Stars - Coldplay

Classic - MKTO (shoutout to 4K but also mostly just Brad)

Roses - Chainsmokers

Something Big - Shawn Mendes

Levels - Nick J

Cake by the Ocean - DNCE

Sorry - Bieber

Hold Me Up - Conrad Sewall

SummerThing! - Afrojack

Devil - Cash Cash ( << but what is that name??)

Forever - Drake

Stronger - Kanye

The Motto - Drake (shoutout to cooler me)

Beware - Big Sean (shoutout to Daniela)

Focus - Ariana Grande

Colors - Halsey

Castle - Halsey

Molly - Lil Dicky

Lay it All on Me (feat. Big Sean) - Ed Sheehan

We Won’t - Jaymes Young

Coming Over - Dillon Francis

Steal Your Heart - BRKLYN

Home Alone Tonight - Luke Bryan

Lush Life - Zara Larsson

Reflections - Misterwives

Back Home - Andy Grammar (obviously my San Clan)

California Gurls - Katy Perry ( ^^^^^)

Cheers.

-H

[hrunsthebostonmarathon]

DFMC’16: Challenged Accepted

The Boston Marathon. THE BOSTON FREAKING MARATHON. My head is still spinning from the drop that my stomach experienced when I got the email that said I'd been accepted. First thought: this is going to be the greatest experience for me and my career. Second thought: holy crap Hopkinton is NOT close. The Boston Marathon is one of, if not the most, prestigious road races in the world. Each year on that Monday morning in April thousands leave the little town of Hopkinton, run through the Boston suburbs, ascending affectionately named "heartbreak hill", see the Citgo sign at Kenmore Square and finally making the ever famous right on Hereford Street and left on Boylston before reaching the finish in Copley Square.

Last year I had the pleasure of spectating the marathon. To say I wasn't emotional would be a blatant lie. Families, children, friends and neighbors line the streets of the course and cheer on complete strangers with an enthusiasm like I've never seen. The Boston Marathon season exemplifies what I love about living in Boston. In the weeks before the marathon I would be out training for my own half and see families setting up tables of Gatorade and water at the ends of their driveways to supply the runners training on the route. Boston and its people are so resilient. They didn't let a winter from hell bring them down. They trained through the feet of snow to run this race and represent this city with pride. I cannot wait to do the same.

I have been at Dana-Farber for over a year now and the work they do is nothing short of remarkable. I am constantly exposed to cutting edge research and care as I walk the halls and attend seminars. I feel so honored to have been given the opportunity to develop my career at such an incredible institution. When I decided to run I knew I would apply to do so with them. They also offer a program that pairs you with a pediatric patient that I was interested in. Throughout the season you spend time getting to know them and then come race day they have a cheering section at mile 25, just where you need it! After submitting an application about why I want to run, who I want to run in honor of and other details about fundraising I received that life changing email that they'd accepted me! I cried, FaceTimed a fellow runner out in public to celebrate, applied for the Patient Partner Program and then reflected on why I'm running.

My mother and father were such strong people whose lives ended sooner than we'd all hope or plan for our parents to die. One of the most valuable things I've learned to do with my grief from these immense losses is to put it into something that means everything. Making them proud is something I strive to do every day. It's in moments I receive opportunities like this one that I know they would be. As avid runners themselves I spent most of my childhood hearing my friends say "I saw Donna out running today" or "your dad was running again this morning!" Well now it's my turn for my friends to say "I saw Haley out running again" This time I'm not biking from Baltimore across the country, but running this marathon in support of everyone that has fought or is fighting this disease!

I’m also running this one for my siblings. They are my rocks. Their unwavering support over the years has given me the utmost strength navigating the sometimes unsteady waters of life. I’m running this 26.2 for them. I know that their love and support will carry me across that finish line come April and I know that I could never do this without them. Seeing them cheer me on will be all the strength I’ll need to go on.

The foundation we're raising money for as part of the Dana Farber Marathon Challenge is an integral part of the discoveries made through research at the institute. I went through the list of projects funded by the program throughout the years and was floored. This science has truly changed the lives of cancer patients everywhere. I am honored to be raising money for the Barr Program. 100% of the DFMC efforts are given to this fund, and it is the only charity participating in the marathon that can say that! How cool.

I'm really excited to hit the ground running in honoring all of those that I've lost, and you've lost, to cancer through training, fundraising and running that marathon! I will be supporting and honoring your loved ones throughout my efforts so please contact me in some way if there is someone you would like me to keep in mind. I will cover every inch of my body in marker if need be come race day! I may not have two parents but I have the best section of cheerleaders that anyone could ever imagine and this is for you too. I would absolutely not be where I am today without the constant love and support of each and every one of you have given me. I'll be using this page as a way to update you with training, which I'm sure will prove interesting in the New England winter, fundraising efforts and other team stuff along the way. Today I've attached some photos from recent life and my answers to some of the questions that they asked on the application.

xo

-H

[email protected]