Join the MINT Rock ‘n Roll Half Marathon Team
MINT Member (and concierge) Beth is heading up a team to run the Rock ‘n Roll Half Marathon this March! She’ll be raising money for the American Diabetes Association.
We will be supporting MINT members who are interested in running the race! We’ll be hosting weekly running groups, providing a training guide (and inspiration right here on the blog!) and helping Beth coordinate happy hours at our community partners so she can raise money for a great cause and spread awareness!
How to register:
- Go to the website: http://www.runrocknroll.com/dc
- Register as an individual runner using the promo code ‘DC17MINT’ to receive your exclusive group discount.
- Download our half-marathon suggested training program (good for ALL level runners! If you’re an experienced runner, feel free to modify as needed.)
- Sign up for our weekly MINT Half Marathon class. We’ll be hosting weekly group training runs every Sunday at NOON, beginning in December.
- Donate on the ADA page!
This is open to ALL members of ALL levels! 13.1 miles can be scary, but with proper training and motivation from peers, we know you can all cross that finish line come March 2017!
For additional questions about fundraising and/or other details about the race, check out the official race website (http://www.runrocknroll.com/dc) or email Beth at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Read Beth’s story here:
“What the heck is wrong with me?” I cried as I laid in bed in excruciating pain at 4 in the morning. I wanted to call someone, anyone. The tears rolled down my face as my legs stiffened.
This was night number five.
I attempted to stand up to make the leg cramps subside, stumbling to the ground as soon as I tried.
I laid on the ground for a few minutes, feeling defeated and helpless just like the night before. I reached for my water beside me, chugging it in hopes of ameliorating the problem. Maybe dehydration was the problem. I just needed to drink more water and the leg cramps would go away. Yeah, sure.
“You need to stretch more and maybe take it easy on your legs, you’re always on them.”
“Eat more protein.”
“Drink more electrolytes.”
“Get more sleep.”
I became thirsty. Always thirsty. I assumed it was because my body was craving more water since I had made an effort to drink more to make the cramps go away. I filled a giant water bottle every night and placed it beside my bedside, knowing I would wake up with cotton mouth at some point in the middle of the night. However, it never satisfied me. Refilling it twice a night became habitual, just like my muscle aches.
Drink more water. Eat more protein.
I was eating right, perhaps even eating more than usual, but my weight was dropping at a rapid rate. At first it felt good. “I’m more active now,” I told myself. Constantly walking, always on my feet. This is great.
The more weight I lost, the weaker I felt. Spinning classes were no longer enjoyable, they were a feat to push through. A 10 pound weight was no longer something I lifted with ease, my arm would shake as I attempted to pick it up.
The legs that could once run a half marathon could hardly push through an 11 minute mile.
Drink more. Eat more. Sleep more.
My body was telling me to do all of these things, but I simply couldn’t. A gallon of water was hardly satisfying, neither was a giant slice of pizza. Walking to work was no longer enjoyable, it took too much energy out of me. I was growing increasingly irritable with people; anxiety became an integral part of my daily life.
For about a month, I accepted discomfort as a norm. Eventually I would feel better. This was just a weird phase.
Between starting a new job and working crazy hours all while still getting settled in a new city, I figured a trip home for Thanksgiving would be the cure-all to my problems. Although it would only be for a few days, I needed this mini vacation.
Reluctantly, I booked a doctor’s appointment with my PCP for Wednesday morning in Boston to see what was going on with me. Although, I had already diagnosed myself with hypothyroidism (thanks, WebMD). So, I walked into the doctor’s office fairly positive that I would be prescribed medication and I’d be back to feeling normal again. No biggie.
I began explaining all of my body issues to the nurse practitioner. “You poor thing!” she exclaimed. She asked me a bunch of questions trying to pinpoint what the problem could be, agreeing that hypothyroidism could possibly be the correct diagnosis.
Or maybe it wasn’t. However, I ignorantly disregarded all of the other possibilities she discussed with me. Whatever was wrong with me was a quick fix. WebMD had already told me (there was a small chance I had to get surgery, but that also wasn’t going to happen).
I had to get a series of blood tests done in the lab upstairs. I waited impatiently as my hair appointment was quickly approaching. Spending 2 hours at the doctors was not how I wanted to start my trip home. She injected the needles into my arm as I stared at my wrist watch. Get me out of here.
I eventually made it to the hair salon, and I was finally doing something that I wanted to do. The foils sat in my hair as I chatted away with my hairdresser, blushing as she commented on my weight loss, although I knew it wasn’t really something to be proud of.
My phone rang, it was the doctor’s office. I knew the blood test results would come back later that day but I didn’t realize how fast it would be.
“Hi, is this Beth?”
The doctor spoke to me in panic. I listened intently as she began to explain my lab results. She said a lot, but all I heard was a single sentence that made my face turn pale.
“We believe that you have type 1 diabetes.”
8 words that would change my life forever. 8 words that I didn’t really understand. 8 words including a disease that would involve endless carb counting, insulin injections, and self-awareness about my body that I never had to worry about before. However, it was also 8 words that would make me so much stronger – physically and mentally.
At the time, I was in the midst of training for the DC Rock ‘n Roll Half Marathon coming up in March of 2016. This had put a serious dampening on my training, but I viewed it as a small obstacle to overcome.
My doctor’s advised against training, as long distance running can be tricky for newly diagnosed patients as it requires a much deeper understanding about your sugar levels, insulin intake, nutrition, etc. to ensure safety throughout the duration of your run.
For months, this disease had severely impacted my quality of life and I refused to let it get in the way of anything else. As soon as I told my doctors I was going to continue to train, we set up a plan for me to complete the full 13.1 miles come March 12th. And I did. Crossing that finish line was much more than just your usual “runner’s high,” it represented something much deeper than that: being better and stronger than life’s shortcomings and refusing to let them define you.
As soon as I crossed the finish line, I was already thinking about next year’s race and how I could use my experience to make a difference. This time, I want the MINT community to join me. Help me cross the finish line for the second year in our MINTy gear and raise money for the American Diabetes Association. Running is so much more than mile times, it’s something that requires dedication and mental toughness- things that we are all capable of.
Feeling inspired? Join the MINT team to run the Rock ‘n Roll Half Marathon this March and raise money for the American Diabetes Association!