Another high school suicide. This is why I'm running.

Newton, a nearby town, is reeling from losing a third teenager in recent months: Newton School's Support After Suicide.

“Every parent feels this in their heart,” Ruth Reibstein, whose two children recently graduated from Newton North, said in an interview in Newton Centre. “We all know people who are suffering, and you can’t take away all the misery and pain. All you can do is reach out and help where you can.” From the Boston Globe, Feb. 8, 2014. 

I can't say it any more loudly or clearly. As a parent, as an adult and community member, I reach out my arms to catch kids falling, and in this nightmarish reality, unlike when they were small and portable, now they are big, full of self-determination and whatever it is that prevents them from reaching back for safety.

With  my toddler I played a game that spooked an early childhood specialist. I'd say, "Baby overboard!" and my physically out-there toddler would fall backwards in my arms - always and only when it was safe would I say the magic words, when I had a good firm grip, never off of a hotel balcony. The specialist recovered her composure and said, "She really trusts you."

I would give anything for arms wide and strong enough to catch these kids. Knowing I can't do that, the next best thing is mustering support for agencies that can. Samaritans does.

Tomorrow, on my journey to Copley Square, I'm planning 17 training miles. I really do not care what the weather's going to be, I'm going to do these miles, this training, this marathon, and this fund and awareness raising anyway.

Do you know a troubled kid? Check out these resources, including signs a child may be at risk.

How Samaritans Helps Teens...

Just under three months until April 21, when I run my heart out lifted by all the support I have received (as well as all the cheering and support given all 36,000 runners from screaming marathon fans as well as much of metro Boston off work and inconvenienced by the marathon route anyway...

What I want everyone I know who knows teenagers to know is that Samaritans is not just for adults. Over this two-year journey to Copley Square, I have talked with many who have used hotline services, volunteered to respond to crisis calls, and lost loved ones to suicide. My takeaway is that being able to talk about the loss, or during the crisis situation, is vitally important to being able to carry on with the work of being human. 

I'll let the Samaritans website tell you about their teen-specific services: 

The Samariteens is the youth peer leadership segment of our Befriending Services. It is dedicated specifically to the prevention of suicide among teens. Begun in 1986, this teen help line provides confidential peer support and understanding to teens who are struggling with feelings of depression, loneliness and stress. From 3 p.m. to 9 p.m. on weekdays, and 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. on weekends, this service is staffed by volunteers between the ages of 15 and 18; outside those hours, calls are answered by adult volunteers.

There are a million reasons to feel alone. Samariteens are available to talk about any of them. Callers to the Samariteen helpline do not have to be feeling suicidal, and most callers are not. Each year, more than 15,000 callers receive support, respect, acceptance and tolerance – for whatever reason they call.

IM Hear_ is Samaritans' new instant messaging service for teens, by teens, being piloted at High Schools in the greater Boston and MetroWest area. If you are interested in learning more about this program or having it available in your school, please contact Kelley Cunningham. 

Also note: teen volunteers answer 54 hours worth of teen helpline calls each week. That's a lot of volunteer hours. I imagine it is an empowering opportunity for kids to learn how much they have to offer, how much of a difference they can make. 

Yesterday, I ran 16 miles in support of these services. Please join me, however you can - I'd love the company especially when the wind chill is below zero, but if you aren't able to run, you can help by spreading the word about Samaritans, or supporting them with a donation. Thank you!

Embrace it...or...Soy más fuerte

Staying off the subway, extreme edition, proving two tenets this morning:

1. I'm told yes I was dropped on my head once as a baby.

2. There is no such thing as bad weather, just bad gear. Today's 9 mile bike commute started in apparently 2 degree air. Brought to you by garmont hiking boots, marmot thermals, that full-wool sweater from Ecuador you bought in the student center lobby almost thirty years ago, Gore tex, ll bean for the jacket, and black diamond mittens (the ones that do nothing for you waiting for a bus miraculously kept most of the cold out this morning!) And fleece. Thanks heavens for fleece, including my Samaritans hat!

My phone said I couldn't use the flash in low temperatures...

Stay warm and careful out there!

Warm pajamas

Beautiful morning for a 16 miler (two hours forty minutes). My body feels good - nothing so sore that an ice pack can't fix, and I keep going out for longer than planned, finishing strong. I had company (Thanks, Jen!) for the first few miles, then it was me and my brain, my breathing, and eventually some light snow. 

Had a great catch-up conversation yesterday in which I was reminded why I'm doing this off the charts running, committing to my third marathon in three years, committing to honoring the memories of now two young women from my community by raising money for (and awareness of) Samaritans, Inc. suicide prevention and grief support services. 

At a high school guidance meeting for parents, we were presented to about suicide and the supports available through school. It has been a difficult stretch for our town, having lost two children as well as last year an entire family to a murder-suicide that involved a father, mother, and twin infant boys. I'm obviously heartened that the school is applying resources to connect students with support and awareness. 

This morning, in relatively balmy thirty-degree weather, I thought about warm pajamas. I suppose when it's been much colder I haven't had the luxury of thinking about much but survival. This morning? Beautiful. 

 - A few years ago, when my thyroid hit the weeds, functioning so low my physician wouldn't tell me the number, I would get up and dressed for the day and stand there staring practically in tears at the pajamas folded, still warm, on my pillow, desperately wanting to get back into them and go back to bed. It took me several months to figure out that this went well beyond my typical winter hibernation and say something to get started down the road to diagnose and fix. 

 - When my daughter was small, I would gather her pajamas for the laundry, appreciating the sleepy warmth clinging still when I got them early, grateful for a small being to care for, grateful for that warmth, our ability to provide a cozy place to sleep, a warm house, a soft bed. Warm pajamas. She's a lot more responsible for her own laundry, and she's long outgrown the feety pajamas with embroidered cupcakes and critters that so melt my heart, but we have her, for which I am grateful. 

In my neighborhood, there are families grieving the loss of their children. I cannot fathom the extent of this grief. A small thing I can do is run a marathon to support a service provider with a mission to prevent losses like these. 

Please join me. There's a link over there ------------------------------------>
Thanks...


Watch this space for details of an upcoming fundraising party/raffle/silent auction to help raise money for Samaritans. Thanks!

Apropos of nothing, here's what today looked like: 

this is me, a little gassed after sixteen big ones. 

this is some of the appalling amount of calories I get to take in on a day like this - Taza cacao puro hot chocolate! If you look closely you can see the reflection of the splint on my finger that has almost fixed my six month old overuse injury from taking too many photos and still needing to get an external mouse for my laptop...

Marathon Training, Frozen Tundra Style...

So this is how it's gonna be. Well, Happy New Year from the land of permanent First Night Ice Sculptures. 

It occurred to me that this is my third winter in a row filled with marathon training. I ran Hyannis in February, 2012. That was the mildest winter of the three, hands down. Warm, little precip, a joy for training. 

A fluke. 

We appear to be in year two of an ice nightmare winter trend. Cold, wet, icy, snowy. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Erasing all memory of spring leaf, flower, fastball. 

This past Saturday, I ran thirteen miles on semi-plowed suburban sidewalks. In single digit temperatures. I overdressed - three layers on my legs and five layers of shirts/jackets. Three layers over my ears (balaclava, hat, turtle fur)! A pair of gloves under my mittens. 

I could have subtracted a layer from my legs and probably two from my tops but the wind chill was supposed to be in the minus twenties and I hate the feeling like I'll never be able to warm up after I've gotten chilled. The feeling that sets in November and doesn't lift until mid-May without me even leaving the house. 

At this point, with road shoulders plowed like clogged arteries, darkness, and bouts of arctic air, winter feels insurmountably constricting. (Though around here we are now getting more than a minute's worth of additional daylight each day, and finally sunrise and sunset are both moving backwards to more humane hours.) 

I so want to just stay in bed. But. Boston is calling and I want to run it like I own it because there will never be another one like it...and I'm not sure I have another one in me. So I train. 

I so want to just stay in bed, but Samaritans takes 350 calls each day - 24/7 - and I am honored to be able to use my running to make sure resources are available for each individual seeking help. I think about caller 351 - will that be someone I know, care about, depend on? Will Samaritans be able to take that call? 

I was asked why I'd run 13 outdoor miles on a day like Saturday, especially since I have a treadmill available. If I didn't get out there, winter would win, and I've got far too many years left in me to be cowed by an entire season. Even if I'd prefer it act more like 2012 and less like 2013/2014. I know what it's capable of and am disappointed terribly in this winter's failure to live up to that potential! 

With a heavy heart...

So. This is a training blog. Through which I will share my journey from here to Copley Square.

This is week one of eighteen leading up to the Marathon. For the next 18 weeks, I will obsess over every twinge, sniffle, hill repeat and sprint. I’m currently watching a finger, both IT bands, and a hip, for those keeping score.

However, as I lay out my training plans for the next few months, this week reminded me that this marathon, like last year’s, is about something more important than how much I'll be running.

My community has suffered another loss, another teenager who, like her friend in whose honor I have been running, fought depression hard. At the funeral, her Rabbi made a point of describing her parents as good parents. Her family read poems and talked about the child’s love of all life aquatic and appetite for adventure. Her curiosity. Her ability to draw connections that most of the rest of us would never get to on our own. Her brother said goodbye. What felt like ten thousand people from our community almost immediately surrounded the family (both families) with hugs and food and memories.

And I’m thinking to myself, I’m running only a marathon. Only 26 miles. Not nearly enough to measure out my grief or the empathy I carry for families who’ve lost children, especially this way. 

I have two really important reasons to run this marathon in support of suicide prevention and grief support services, but really I have about 4500 just counting the kids in my town. I know I cannot stop every suicide, but I can do my part (with your help) to make sure that support is out there for people at their most vulnerable, and for those who have to learn to live with loss.

Hug them hard. Make sure they know that there are people out there who will reach back, without judgment, if they need to reach out. And make sure that they know they can volunteer, too, to answer calls, chats and texts from kids like them. Every one of them has more to offer than they know.

http://www.samaritanshope.org

"Love is strength, stay strong Boston"

I do not easily fall for groupspeak. However. This #BostonStrong of which we tweet...

No one is in this alone, perhaps, is what the bombings have given us a chance to say to each other. Because it could have been any of us, it was all of us? This sentiment resonates with the work of Samaritans and my whole point of running the marathon last year. 

Earlier in the blog I wrote about two times I went splat training last winter, I think. I've already had my first black ice wipeout - thankfully on foot, testing whether I should try to bike down the hill (no!) and I got up again. Should have been a stunt double for all the falling. Good practice for my later years, I guess. But I digress. 

Boston Marathon 2014 gives everyone touched a chance to get up again.

I mean, really. Could they have picked a more symbolic public assembly than the Boston Marathon? It's not even work here to lift the symbolism from sub- to text. Really. Dumb@sses.

Anyway, #BostonStrong. Since April, I have passed this encouragement, just off Mass Ave in Cambridge, on my way to and from my temp job: 

Mid-October, before THE RED SOX WON THE WORLD SERIES! I found this in Lexington, at Wilson Farm. 

And, over the summer, when I was fortunate enough to be on holiday just about as far west of Boston as you can get and still be in the USA, #BostonStrong crossed the Pacific Ocean and affected someone there, too (graffiti in HI involves dead coral white rocks on black lava rock canvas. Cool, no?)

Aloha, indeed! What's your #BostonStrong?