Wedding Day Take Two

Every girl dreams of her wedding day. They can't wait to marry the man (man-child in my case) of their dreams! They spend countless hours planning the details of this (hopefully) once in a lifetime event in their lives so everything has to be perfect, from the colors to the food, music, the ambiance, the guest list and so forth.

When I married Charlie in 2007, I had planned my entire wedding on my own for 300+ guests. I had selected every detail that went into this event. He was an only child and I was the eldest and first to get married, so I had always knew that this day would have to be epic..and so I thought.

Being the control freak that I am, I notice every detail. I may not vocalize it, but yes, I see the thread unraveling on the hem of your skirt, the mole on your left eyelid and the fake eyelashes. I take note and I judge like anyone else. Which is probably why I strain myself in trying to be so perfect, in fear of judgement if I make a mistake. I can't help it, I was programmed that way.

I feared the consequences of not being "perfect". My father is an extreme perfectionist and growing up, there was just no room for error. Though it has allowed me to exceed beyond my own expectations in certain areas, it has also hindered my ability to deal with the unexpected.

I did not expect that my vendor for my floral arrangements would be an hour late or I would have some additional guests at my reception that were not invited (shouldn't have been a surprise considering we are Samoans hardy-har-har) and I did not expect to starve at my own wedding because I never had a chance to really sit down and enjoy my food. I did not expect for it to rain or for the limo driver to drive my wedding party to the wrong location. I did not expect that the song I chose for our first dance would go missing and I would be dancing to some song I had never heard before and I especially did not expect my father to be in the hospital.

He laid on a hospital bed on my wedding day because of an infection. He was and still is diabetic.

That morning I had really thought that my father was going to walk me down the aisle. I had truly believed in some crazy way that our relationship could possibly heal and grow from that magical experience...when a father gives his daughter away. I was hoping to look him in the eye and simply say thank you and I love you.

Years later, his health continues to deteriorate and though, as I've mentioned before, he has made changes, it's not enough.It seems like the hospital visits are more frequent as the years go by. I expect the uncertainty each time.

For many of you reading this, hopefully you've understood by now, that my journey isn't solely about losing weight or being physically healthy. It is about total life transformation. It's about challenging myself to do things that I once thought impossible but at some point in my life thought.."Gee, if only I could do this..." or "I wish I had said this...." or "I want to become this..." The whole point of this journey was to allow those very things to manifest in my life by simply taking care of myself first. I didn't know that at first but somehow things are manifesting as we speak. I can expect myself to do great things if I am healthy and well, makes sense right? Not easy.

My mentality of "It is what it is" and "I don't give a sh*t anymore" has now evolved to waking up at 5am in the morning saying  "I am capable of achieving these things at any age and at any point in my life." I now understand that I have the right to say.. "Stop! this isn't what I want!" and steer myself in the direction of my dreams. As corny and cliche as it may sound, I have come to learn that it is the only true way to live my life...by my terms. Sure there are things I cannot control, but I think we underestimate how much control we actually do have in contributing to the lives we were meant to live.

It scares me to dream bigger. But I can't think of why I shouldn't. Not even the fear of failure has it's grip on me. After running that full marathon, I feel unstoppable.

My father's absence on my wedding day was of course devastating but it also taught me a great lesson; I do not wish to miss out on LIFE. I do not wish to miss out on LOVE and I do not wish to miss out on OPPORTUNITIES. I want to live with NO REGRETS.

So when I heard Paula Fuga, one of my favorite singers from Hawai'i, was in town on April 21st, I did not hesitate to go see her. The funny thing is, she was touring the Bay Area and I was coming from Hawai'i. So basically traded places and overlapped by one day which so happened to be on her very last day of touring in the mainland. So why is this significant?  her song Sweet Reverie, was suppose to be our first dance. You know...the CD that went missing on my wedding day?....uh huh, yea that one!

What's even a little more serendipitous is that Paula Fuga had started following me on Instagram a few months prior! Totally honored! That evening, I came to see her and made sure she knew I was coming and that I had a small request that I made on Instagram.

Yes........I made sure that me and Charlie were going to have that first dance song and we did.

She sang that song and my man-child and I took the dance floor in a room full of complete strangers and we danced. Tears rolled down my face as I embraced the man that I had vowed to love with all of me. The man that I had promised to take care of through sickness and health. The guy that pisses me off almost every other day but somehow knows how to make me laugh in the middle of a heated argument. The man who spent years fighting for his life on  2 bad kidneys, a broken heart and a scarred memory of his late brother. His only sibling. The man who brings me flowers when I don't deserve them..the guy who still collects toys from the 80's and leaves them around the house for me to step on in the middle of the night. The man who inspires me and the man that I simply adore.

We danced to the song that was suppose to be on our wedding day, but was MEANT to be sung live and direct by Paula herself. It meant more to us NOW than it may have on our wedding day in September of 2007. It was organic, it was authentic and it was not rehearsed. It was not expected but it was so meant to be.

Paula Fuga

Truth: I was unhappy on my wedding day. Having to plan by myself, noticing every little darn detail on the day I was suppose to enjoy, not having my father present on that day...sweating like a pig in my dress because I was so overweight and dying for a cigarette every 10 minutes was not exactly what I had expected  or envisioned for my wedding day....

So as one of my bucket list goals I had set for 2012, but never got around to, I had decided that I was going to turn one of those "I wish" statements to "I did" and make sure that I create the day that was meant to be. If you hadn't notice, I don't play by the rules, I create them. That is the beauty of being in complete control of your life, not in the sense that everything is smooth-sailing, but in the sense that if you choose to do something or go somewhere, you are not led by restrictions but are led by the limitless possibilities and DO IT.

So what the hell, I'm going to get married again. I have not set a date yet, but my father WILL walk me down the aisle. I WILL be content and I WILL be healthy. I will have my song or (back up song lol) to dance to and I will not beat myself up with the thought of a picture perfect wedding, but instead will enjoy this opportunity to renew the vows between me and my man-child and most importantly, give my father the opportunity to be a part of this special day in my life. I know that he struggles with the fact that he could not be there on that day so I want to make sure that he knows that he was truly missed on this day, so much that I have to do it again.

My father is in the hospital yet again so I'm moving with the mind-set of "now or never" as you can imagine! I think it's times like these that truly bring purpose to the goals I set forth for myself and for my family. Nothing is done in vain.

I think this photo says it all. My poor mom...and look at me..I was not happy at all but I hid it under a "smile"

My mom, Charlie and in-laws

Here is one my favorite candid photos of me at my reception..that was probably after a few glasses of wine, but I can honestly say that I was genuinely happy here. I must of been laughing at Charlie.

So...I had lost my wedding rings a year ago. My mother in law found them a week ago. I may notice the details, but I do lose things quite frequently. I truly thought I had lost my wedding rings and they were long gone. Instead I had left them at my in-law's home in Central Valley which I'm sure when we last spent the night. I tried to put it on, and it doesn't fit. It's even loose fitting on my thumb!!! Wowzers! I really had some sausage fingers!

I remember on my wedding day how that ring barely fit on my finger because it was actually too tight. I had gained since the engagement. I also remember how embarrassed I was when it came to the traditional garter toss, you know, when your husband has to pull the garter down from your thigh? which means he needs to go under your dress to do so. I don't even know why I agreed to do that. I look back at that photo and think, oh my goodness...why did I do that??? Sometimes you don't realize how overweight you are until you actually step back after some time. You then realize, "What the hell was I doing?"  I don't care to share those photos by the way, we'll save that for another post about cellulite. 

I never shared my engagement photos from 5 years ago. In fact, these photos probably do best when it comes to showcasing my "unhealthy" and "unhappy" lifestyle compared to a photo shoot I did in Hawai'i three weeks ago. One of my goals was to take updated photos with my husband and again I did not expect this, it came out of nowhere. I won a FREE photo shoot with a professional photographer months prior to my full marathon and he so happened to be in Hawai'i :-) Go check him out at RokeT Media on Facebook!

"You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream." - C.S. Lewis

Stay tuned for Menne and Charlie's wedding day, take 2, and no, don't ask for an invite lol. 

She's Been Called Home

My family has suffered loss in the last few years. Today the heavens called my aunt home.

On Friday, I took the day off and I almost didn't, I had a deadline to meet but I said "Oh well...it can wait." So I drove the hour away from home to go visit her with my mom.

We drove down 101 and hopped on the 152 to Los Banos.

A month ago, I ran in honor of my aunty Ema, do you remember? I left her a cut out heart on her hospital gown as she laid in ICU. Her heart was bad. It is no guessing as to why in our family. We haven't been the best of caretakers of our own bodies...

Ema is my father's eldest sister.

My dear aunty Aloema

Sisters



My father isn't much for feelings. But my sister said she seen a tear when he came to visit her in the hospital this past week.


Truth: If there is ever a time to take care of yourself, it would be now.

I'm not just training for a mere race, I'm training for life itself & my warrior sisters who have been the caretakers of not only their mothers, their sisters, brothers, fathers, their families and the children of others..you are the epitome of what warriors are made of. You protect our aiga in ways that are often underappreciated, but know that I see you. I see you all.
 
I worry about my parents, I worry about my brothers and sisters. I worry about my island nations who rank among the top obese nations in the world, I worry about a lot of things...but it has propelled me into action.

My aunty Ema, the eldest warrior in our family was called home today. Please tell my grandmothers, I miss them so much. I told my aunty as I sat next to her bedside "Look aunty, I got us our malu...."

I am the first in my family, in this generation to bear the malu. It was so important for me to share this with her...

I have 2 races this weekend. You better believe I'm running with all of my heart for you aunty...with everything in me, my malu will be in full stride for you....protect that in which is sacred...my family, the women, our heritage and our health.



If you would like to help donate to my family in their time of need as we plan for her homecoming, please e-mail me at mennechall@gmail.com. Nothing has been set up as of now, but please anything and everything helps.

To Protect

As I approach the end of my trip here in Hawai'i I declared that I had one more leg to complete of my full marathon. These first 26.2 miles I poured an ocean of sweat, but this last mile...I brought my journey full circle with my own tears and blood. That phrase comes to mind.. "to shed blood.... sweat...... and tears" never applied so much to my life as it does at this very moment.

Yesterday for 4.5 hours I received my malu, and for those of you that are unfamiliar, a malu is a traditional Samoan tattoo for women. It ancient times this art form was exclusive for only taupous (village maidens of high status) or daughters of high chiefs. The malu is displayed from the upper thigh to just below the knees. It is done with simple tools; wooden stick, shell, serrated combs made from bone or boar's teeth (nowadays, it may be used with modern materials-but the concept still remains). This instrument is referred to as the "au" and the tattooist, we refer to as the tufuga ta tatau or otherwise known as "master tattooist". The word in which we use in modern day English is "tattoo", which is derived from the Polynesian word "tatau".

The malu signifies a rights of passage for women in the Samoan culture, as does the pe'a for the men (which is the male equivalent). The malu, the meaning or purpose of this tattoo, from what I've been taught, is her connection and service to her culture, her community, her aiga (or family) and to the land; simply, the way of life. The malu also means "shelter" or  "to protect", especially in regards to her family. Most importantly, it is a sacred covenant between her and her culture and all that it entails. With the malu, comes a responsibility.

Charlie, me and my Tufuga, Sua Pika Suluape

So I'm going to let you in on a little something now that I've briefly explained a little background on the malu. Now I'm going to share with you what it means to me.

There will be skeptics and there will be those that follow a strict protocol when it comes to the practices within my culture. But since this is my show (my blog) and I pretty much march to my own drum beat, I'm going to share with you the perspective of a Samoan American woman getting her malu. Because for one, I was not born in Samoa, and my "village" is the city of San Francisco and the greater Bay Area lol.

The blood and tears for this last "mile" of my marathon are in honor of 2 women very near and dear to my heart. Excuse me while I brush the sand out of my eyes....*ahem* so last year, I had 5 very specific things I wanted to tackle in my life before I die, hence the purpose of my blog which originally was intended to capture my journey to fulfilling my bucket list or my list of things to do before I leave this earth. One of these pursuits, was to pursue my culture and to pursue my womanhood - in essence, to pursue a greater knowledge and fulfillment in these 2 areas of my life, so I did that as of the last few years. I went to Samoa, I reunited my mother with her family after 30+ years....but I was unable to go to Samoa to visit my grandmother's grave or the village she grew up in.

My grandmother, whom I had never met,  died the year before I was born and growing up I was always curious about her. In a lot of ways, I always felt this strong connection to her. I recall the only photo my mom had of her....and that one photo of her is forever lost because when we were bouncing from shelter to shelter, our belongings that were locked up in storage were thrown out because we couldn't afford to pay for the monthly storage fee. Photos of me as a child were in that pile and therefore I have the slightest clue as to what I look like. My grandmother, however, as ironic as this may seem, I do remember. She was standing in front of our family plantation back home. She was short, petite, her hair was pulled back and she just stood there with a smile on her face. When I saw my aunt, my mother's sister  for the first time a few years back, I instantly recognized her, "Oh my gosh! you look like grandma!", she replied  "you never met her! how do you know what she looks like?" I told her "I seen a photo of her once when I was a child. I remember her face."

My grandmother's name is Maima Tupa'i and she hails from the island of Upolu and she is from the village of Leauva'a. She married my grandfather, Peato Galo, from Saleaumua Aleipata. They had 2 girls and 2 boys. My mother was the first born, she was fittingly named Meaalofa, which is translated to "gifts" or what I always tell her "gifts of love" :-)  She doesn't like to be called Meaalofa, but would insist you call her Alofa :-)

My mother left Samoa at a very early age and moved to Auckland, New Zealand and then to the states. In New Zealand she worked at a factory and then moved to the U.S. and worked in the orchards, which is presently known as San Jose/Silicon Valley. Yes Samoans use to work the fields alongside our fellow Latinos, Filipinos, Chinese etc. She worked the orchards alongside the man I call my dad. They met and had me. There is a joke that I was conceived in the corn fields 0_o it's a bit disturbing if you ask me....lol

My mother left home for reasons that truly helped me to better understand why she is the person she is. A very strong, sometimes stubborn, but driven individual. She came here with very little and as our family grew, our struggles grew even more. I remember living out of a car and jumping from one shelter to another...she always held it together for us. She was the only one working for many years as my dad struggled to find work but also was battling his own demons. She was always breaking her back to make ends meet. While growing up, I was always curious about where my mom came from and who her family was. My brother and sisters and I did not know anyone from my mother's side of the family until we were adults.

It was always during the summer, while sitting out in front of the driveway my mom would tell stories, or she would talanoa, the act of revealing stories or life experiences that draw meaningful and in depth conversations and/or insight of one's life or culture.

I wanted to hear my mother's story. It was mysterious to me. I felt as if I walked around with half of a face not knowing who she was, who she was related to, where she came from. I did not have to worry about that with my father's side, he is one of 11 brothers and sisters. I could ask anyone, but my mom...it was like pulling teeth. Or in this case, Samoan teeth (tough teeth to pull).

When my mother left the shores of Samoa in the late 70's, she left her mom, dad, brothers and sister. She also left my eldest half brother, Peni who was raised by my grandparents. In 1980, my mother moved to the states. That very year, my grandmother, fell very ill and died in Samoa. The following year I was born.

The stories my mom would tell me, kept me captivated and always wondering about her. My mom was not comfortable speaking about her past, but I would continue to pull...searching for more, searching for the truth. I am a truth seeker, it's in my nature. Until finally she told me the stories, not all at once, but they would come unexpectedly, mostly during those hot summer evenings where you can't go to bed. We would sit and she would speak and I would listen. I won't necessarily share every detail but when my mother is ready to reveal her story to the world as a lesson, she will, but for right now, let me paint you a picture...

My mom has marks on her arms, an obvious burn. It looks like melted skin...
Imagine having to hide in the woods while your drunk father hunts you down and your brothers and sister with a rifle, at times a machete...
Your mom trying to hide you but she gets the crap beaten out of her while you hold your breath hiding underneath a fallen tree
Imagine your front teeth being kicked in...
Your hair being pulled and dragged along a dirt road... 
Imagine having to hide your "truth" behind doors in fear of what the others would say, what the church would say, what your neighbors would say, what your own family would say...
Imagine your dad driving intoxicated and moments later having to walk away from a turned over vehicle unscathed...(not once, but twice)
Walking miles with your mom to the nearest hospital to save your sick brother..
Having to leave your son behind out of necessity
Imagine being violated..........

Growing up in a violent household myself, I always felt the need to speak up for not only myself but for women in general. I grew resentment over the years in just seeing how the women in our family, our culture and in our communities were being treated. I was always taught to respect my elders and to "shut my mouth" if I knew any better. I was always taught to conform, but never taught to think critically of why things are the way they are. I always felt a need to avenge my grandmother's memory. Her teeth were kicked in when my grandfather came home drunk, that smile in her photo...behind that smile she probably hid her missing teeth. Is that how you shut her up? There are some dark truths that lie in my family history that are very painful. A lot of dark truths within our community.

I don't make this stuff up and I've only scratched the surface. I can't even begin to tell you, but my mom has agreed, in due time she will share her story because she knows that it is her responsibility to bring awareness of the violence that is prevalent in our communities, in our very own homes with the people who we should be protected by. Whom we should trust.

I want to make clear, my grandfather is still alive and I don't hate him. My mom does not hate him. He is an old man who has to reckon with his own sins come time. I don't hate him, but I am very hurt. He robbed me of my grandmother. He robbed my mother of her mom...my grandmother passed away from heart ache and abuse- plain and simple. My mom left home because...well, if she didn't, I don't think I would be here today. That is the truth. I would not be here today. At the cost of not knowing how to speak Samoan fluently or being raised on island soil, I am alive and well. Although the cycle of violence did not leave the very home I grew in, it stops with me.

I got my malu because.... well, the malu means "to protect". I wasn't there to protect my mom and my grandmother and I..sorry while I brush the sand out of my eyes again...I wasn't there to tend to her screams or her pain. I wasn't there to fend off my drunken grandfather or the man that hurt her. I wasn't there to save my grandmother's teeth or the bleeding from her feet from walking those miles...I wasn't there...but I'm here today and it will never happen again. Mark my word, it will never happen again.

How do you miss someone you've never met before? How do you hate someone who you've only known for a few years? How do you speak to them when they don't even speak English? and you can barely get by in your broken Samoan? How do you explain to them that they took something from you? How do you tell them, I still love you...because you are the only grandparent alive? How do you look your mom in the face and empathize with her loss? How do I protect my loved ones?

Warriors, unlike soldiers, carve their own path, they challenge the status quo, they do not conform, they seek the truth. A malu may signify your status in a Samoan village, but I was not born in Samoa, I was raised in the United States and that was not my choice. My experiences differ from that of a taupou raised in Samoa but I meet the qualifications of a bearer of the malu. I serve my community here, I honor my family here and I protect them here. My family gave me their blessing and that is all that I need. I am not a picture perfect depiction of a culturally well-versed Samoan woman but I am learning to reclaim what was taken from me, including my grandmother. It may not look exactly the way others envisioned but again, warriors carve their own path. Especially for those warriors that are far from the shores of their homeland and are finding their way back.

I always walked around with half a face, shoot, I'm still walking around with a part of my face on, but you know what? I never walk around with half a heart. My heart is pure Samoan. I may not always understand the politics or the cultural norms in my island culture, but I recognize it right away. It's in me. Just like I remember what my grandmother looks like. My mom may have ran away from her shores, but I'm running towards it, with my malu, FULL FORCE. I'm running towards it. After I finish my degree, I plan to take a sabbatical and spend time back home to complete my education, or in this case, to complete my "face".

My lineage from my father's side traces back to the royal lines of Tuimaleali'ifano from Upolu. Though it is in my blood and I can use that to justify my reasons, I also believe that warriors are not born, but are made. I'm a warrior in the making, heck I am already there. I ran 26.2 miles on Sunday and I shed blood on Wednesday, why? because I define my life and where it's headed!

And for the 2 realest warriors that I know in my life that are worth shedding blood and tears for, I love you both. Grandma I miss you dearly. The tears streamed from my eyes with every tap of the au into my flesh, the physical pain will subside, but I carried the reminder of YOUR pain with me yesterday as I laid on that mat and stared at the ceiling. The pain in which you've endured is in no comparison to the undertaking of the malu itself. But let this malu be a constant reminder of not only my heritage but to protect that in which is sacred to my family (O Mea Sina), the women, our history, our roots, our dignity and our right to protect ourselves.

My dear sistah, Tina Mata'afa-Tufele of Tautalatala by my side. I thank GOD she was there to see me through this journey. 

“Whatever you are physically...male or female, strong or weak, ill or healthy--all those things matter less than what your heart contains. If you have the soul of a warrior, you are a warrior. All those other things, they are the glass that contains the lamp, but you are the light inside.” 
― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel

The Behind the Scenes of My First 26.2 Miles

If you told me 2 years ago I'd be running a full marathon, I would of laughed.

On 4/14/2013, I completed my first 26.2 miles in the North Shore Marathon. For those of you that have yet to complete one, let me break my experience down for you.

HERE IS THE BEHIND THE SCENES TRUTH
(the not so glorious side of running my first full marathon)

I had planned to go to bed on Saturday by 5-6pm. I ended up going to bed past 9pm. Bad move because my race started at 5am. Therefore I needed to wake up at least by 2am, but in our case, it needed to be 1am since we needed to pick up one of our cousins to keep Charlie company and to also help us navigate to Haleiwa, a beautiful town in North Shore, about an hour away from Waikiki and considered the surfing capital of the world.

I was up by 1am and we left the house by 2am. For breakfast I had granola with almond milk and a banana. I got to the starting line by 3am and had a small tangerine to wake me up. By then, I only had about 4 hours of sleep & *ahem* perhaps this is a bit too much info, but since I'm pretty candid about a lot of things in my life, who cares? I was also on my cycle; "that time of the month". So, my condition going into the race was a little rough. Guys, you have no idea. Thankfully, my legs were functioning 0_o

When I arrived to the starting line, it was so dark. At one point I was like "Who wakes up at 1am to run???", obviously me and the other 600 people out here. We are crazy. There were people from all over the world, Japan, Australia, New Zealand, Canada - all crazies.

The race began at 5am, right on time and I started off strong but I didn't "wake up" until mile 4-5. I'm running and thinking "this is going to be a long run...so I better just take it easy!" The first 3 miles always suck for me, they usually set the pace for the rest of the miles ahead of me so I try to keep a steady pace of 7-8 min. per mile. Which is good for me. While I am not the fastest, it's "my fast" and I don't think I'm anywhere near to qualifying for the Boston Marathon but I think it's important for those that are beginning to know what "their fast" is and to continuously compete against your own time rather than others. For some of you it might not even matter, getting to the finish line is good enough! That always works too!

When I first started running, I would be discouraged every time someone flew right past me and I would feel so slow. I've come to learn, it's just you racing against yourself. It really is. Find your purpose for being there that day too- for me it was to conquer the 26.2 miles in honor of my friends and family,  it was to prove that it was possible.

Photo by Roke T Media 

At mile 7, I cramped-what is common among a lot of runners and/or swimmers is Runner's Stitch, that sudden sharp pain beneath your ribs on either side. It gradually grew in pain and I thought "Shit, I can't run like this, I have 19.2 more miles to go! crap!" so I slowed down, focused on my breathing (because I think that is what caused it- shallow breathing and not allowing my diaphragm to fully expand) and I even pressed against my ribs, which actually helped.

After the pain worn off, I didn't stop. I saw Charlie at the 20 mile marker across the street as I passed up mile 13, him and Frankie were on the side of the road hollering and shouting "Go MENNE! Go MENNE! and to my surprise they picked up some guy and his dog?? I was so confused as to what was going on...apparently the guy was a friend who's wife was also running but I didn't know that until after the race. At first I thought these 2 Samoan guys just picked up some random guy with his dog, they must of lost their minds! I just kept running as these guys cheered on the other runners and apparently were playing techno music and dancing in the rain, Charlie said one of the runners even cried, she said she appreciated their support as there were NO other supporters on the course but a few. That is why I love this man, he didn't just cheer for me, but he and cousin Frankie and strange man with a dog, were cheering for everyone else.

I got to mile 14 and I felt good. But afterwards, I realized, that half marathons are a good distance for me as I've ran so many and I started to get fatigued when I got to mile 15, OH and did I mention it started to pour! the rain had come and go but at mile 15, it just poured. The wind was strong by the time I got to Kaena Point. It poured so much that both iPods went out :-( I was disappointed and it forced me to listen to my inner voice- no more music to keep me going. I thought, wow, this is so not happening is it?

Mile 18, I had to walk a little bit. As with most of the runners at that point, they were all walking, dashing for a minute or two and then walking. My feet started to scream at me and I was lucky up to that point to have not cramped in my legs, but my right foot started to feel like it. I had taken the advice from my good friend Brianne to wear duct tape around my toes and it was the best advice because I was certain at this mile, my feet would of been shredded by now. I wore good socks too, they were the blister-free kind, made by Moving Comfort. I was so happy to have saved my feet! Granted I was on the verge of cramping in my toes, I would of taken that over ripped skin any day!

At mile 20, I was like "Okay, I got 6.2 more miles...you can do this!"

The "wall" for me set in at mile 21-22, that point in the race where you start to go a little delirious and are fighting for dear life to just make it to mile 25. You can feel the mood change. The face of exhaustion was on everyone's faces, everyone including myself would need to stop on the side, stretch, bend over and stare at the ground to remember why you are doing this then step back onto the road and keep going.

By mile 25, I tried to run it all but I needed to stop a couple times, I was just beyond tired. In fact, it was more of a "I want to go to sleep" tired, I just want to pass out on the side of the road and then wake me up when you're ready to go home. I then saw Charlie and then I saw the sign "FINISH LINE HERE" I straight booked it lol. I told myself  "there is a plate lunch at the end for you! just get there!" Charlie ran the last leg with me and he kept asking "how are you feeling?" I didn't say a word, I was just too tired to engage in a conversation, all I saw was the big bright blue FINISH LINE arch and I wanted to get under it. I saw the race clock and it read 5:59:00, I figured, okay, I can get this under 6 hours! lol which I did. I took 2 bathroom breaks, so that in itself about 10 minutes, so I am going to say my unofficial time was 5:50 lol.

I learned so much about myself at this race. You would think after running so many races prior I would be more than prepared, but all races are not created equal. That is why I compare my life to a marathon, the race is you against you. Things happen and you will be forced to reckon with your decisions and how you react to the unexpected. I can't stress how important it was for me to see my husband and cousin along the course, it gave me a sense of pride and hope. I kept all my SNN sisters in mind and in heart, my family in my prayers and my purpose within sight. To run for change.

Last year, I had asked my cousin, "Who do you know that is Samoan and a woman that is known for health & wellness? (you know someone within our culture that defies the stereotype of being obese and unhealthy, that supports health and wellness in our community?)" he thought for a long time... "you know I don't know....I don't think there is one." But I'm sure he could name a ton of Samoan (men) who are well known in the community. When he said he couldn't think of anyone, it made me think, well if we don't have one, then I will become that person, for me and for my sisters and for my family.

The race was significant in the sense that you don't see a Samoan (woman) running marathons, but I know there are more out there, there are more leaders in this health & wellness movement that deserve to be recognized. Thank you for inspiring me and for believing in me, you know exactly who you are.

But besides the fact, all communities of all color and backgrounds need people to just show that it is possible. Especially communities of color where diabetes, obesity and all other health plagues are killing us day by day.

I'm living proof that it can be done and that nothing is impossible. If you told me today that I would be running a full marathon, I would say "Yes I did. I ran 26.2 miles!"

Distance is a Friend of Mine

"A WORD of....
DID is a word of ACHIEVEMENT
WONT is a word of RETREAT
MIGHT is a word of BEREAVEMENT
CANT is a word of DEFEAT
OUGHT is a word of DUTY
TRY is a word of each HOUR
WILL is word of BEAUTY
But
CAN is the word of POWER...." 

My SNN sister Leila posted this on my FB yesterday and it truly made me even more proud to call her my sister. Those last 6 words are going to be my mantra for tomorrow's full marathon..."CAN is the word of POWER!" and I hope to chant that over and over again when I get tired and when the pain starts to seep into my bones and muscles.."I CAN..I CAN..I CAN..I CAN!!! I SO CAN!"

So how does one prepare for their first full marathon? 

I've got all my stuff set out! CHECK!

I've got my bib, CHECK!

Besides months of training and eating healthy (CHECK)- I found it necessary to share the mental/emotional and spiritual preparation of having to run that many miles, 26.2 miles that is. And the first thing that came to mind was...breathe (CHECK...I'm breathing..)

Secondly, making sure that I feel physically well by stretching, drinking, eating (and oh boy did I eat...I will save that for another post lol) and sleeping (I'm sure tired right now as I type) but am going to bed fairly soon so..CHECK!

Thirdly, I opened a few small gifts from some good friends and SNN sisters who came to see me off last week. This was the best way I can think of preparing for my race (CHECK)!

 Encouraging words from my good friend Cara from Phat Chances! 

Believe and Change! I will hold these positive words in my pocket! and when and if I need to stop because I'm in pain, I will just take a good look at these. 

Seriously love this! Quotes to get me inspired and to get me going!!!!!!!!!! aaaahhh I'm an emotional wreck! 

My good friend Cara, says I'm a nutcase, we also realized that it takes one to know one lol 

Brianne from Phat Chances gave me this AMAZING candle lol so need this to relax and calm the heck down!

My SNN sistah Leila gave me this. I plan to wear it. I have to say, this by far is my favorite gift because it not only represents SNN but also my Pacific culture. I may not be from Guahan (Guam) but they are my sisters and brothers, the ocean is our home. If you hadn't noticed, it's carved in the shape of Guahan's emblem on their country flag. It bears so much truth and meaning for me. 

I don't think it was ever in my mind that I would become a marathoner, let alone run. It never occurred to me that it would launch me into a life of wanting to better myself or encourage others to also do the same, it never occurred to me that I cared so much. They say, if you want to lose weight, then exercise, but if you want to change your life, then become a runner. If life was ever compared to anything, it would have to be a marathon in my opinion...every living thing has a beginning and end...but what counts is what's in between. The sweat, tears and will to not just pass the finish line, but to get there knowing you gave it your all & you didn't give up. 


I'm ready
Distance is a friend of mine 
I fought this whole year to find you
And I'm here
I won't back down
I won't leave until you are mine
All 26.2 miles, is mine
When I run, I leave footprints for those that have passed on and for those that strive on
I leave my sweat, my anguish, my fears and my pain on the pavement, on the sand and on the soil
I've come too far to turn back around
This journey is far from over
but by tomorrow, my journey will forever take a different course
I am no longer afraid of you
It will be me, you and Him
I am not weak, but I am strong
Distance is a friend of mine

It's time to rock'n roll!!! 

This is the course I will run tomorrow...a few reminders to help me along,  I am running for change- running to combat obesity, diabetes and heart disease, not only within my OWN life, but also within my family. I am glad to have touched a handful of family members who are well on their journey, and because of that, they will bear the blessings of a much healthier lifestyle...it's now or never!

"Nothing worth having comes easy..."