Digging Deep

I managed this self-portrait before dawn
the morning of the race.

As promised, following are my results from the 2011 Tar Heel 10 Miler, run on the campus of UNC and the streets of Chapel Hill on a misty Saturday morning before the sun ever broke through the clouds.

Time: 1:25:27
Pace: 8:35/mile
Laurel Hill time: 7:35
Place: 734 out of 2,189 overall; 267 out of 1,252 females; 60 out of 200 females ages 25-29

I began the race on Stadium Dr. with a nasty head cold, an injured Achilles (pulled in a soccer game two days prior) and maybe an hour of sleep (worried I'd sleep through my 5 a.m. alarm, I never quite made it to dreamland).

Around mile marker 2, I felt a burning sensation in the ball of my left foot. It never went away, forcing me to change the way I run (more naturally a sprinter than a distance runner, I run entire road races on my toes). Hours later, I'd discover the source of the pain - an enormous blood blister.

Near mile marker 5, the pain in my Achilles relented, blissfully replaced by a runner's high.

A few miles later, I called my parents from the course just to check in. Their voices gave me the boost I'd need just moments later.

Soon after we said goodbye, I reached Laurel Hill - the most difficult part of the race, featuring a 200-foot vertical climb over the course of a mile. By then, my lack of sleep had caught up with me. But when I crossed the first timing mat, I pushed myself, getting as close to a sprint as my body permitted. Each time my ruined feet hit the pavement, I heard my little sister's laugh, and I dug deeper. I crossed the second timing mat at the top of Laurel Hill 7 minutes and 35 seconds after crossing the first - meaning I'd run the most challenging mile a minute faster than my average mile pace.

Soon afterward, I heard the music at the finish line as I rounded a bend. And when I reached the final straightaway, as in every race, I pulled out one more sprint for "T."

I ran the 2011 Tar Heel 10 Miler 12 minutes faster than in 2010, so tonight, true to my word, I'll make a $60 donation to our Miles to a Miracle campaign. But more importantly, I'll never stop running. In fact, I got back out on the track tonight, ready to tackle the next race for Taylor. Laurel Hill has nothing on the mountain we have yet to climb. But I believe.

Please consider making a gift of your own to help Taylor's Tale cross the finish line of the ultimate race: the race to save the lives of children like my little sister. Give Now

Laurel Hill

Two weeks from Saturday, I'll run my favorite race, the Tar Heel 10 Miler, on the streets of Chapel Hill, N.C. and the gorgeous campus of the University of North Carolina.

I'll pass mile marker 1 on the L-shaped road I used to take to UNC basketball games at the "Dean Dome" and soccer practice before they turned our old field into a parking lot.

Around mile marker 5, I'll run past the Forest Theatre, where I got initiated into the co-ed honor fraternity the same night a student proposed to his girlfriend with a candlelit dinner on the stone amphitheater's grass-carpeted floor.

Near the very end of the race, I'll climb Laurel Hill, which earned its famous rep due to the fact that it climbs more than 200 vertical feet over about a mile. It's the most difficult part of the race - so much so that race organizers place separate timing mats at the bottom and top for the simple fact that any runner who notches a killer split on Laurel Hill earns automatic bragging rights.

Laurel Hill isn't easy, but my playlist, my Asics and my love for my little sister will carry me to the top. And soon after I reach that pinnacle, I'll cross the finish line.

This will be the third race I've run for Taylor since Thanksgiving, but this time, I'll have additional motivation. In 2010, I ran a slow 1:39 in the Tar Heel 10 Miler. Just two days ago in Charlotte, I ran 10 miles and beat that time by more than 20 minutes. Granted, south Charlotte doesn't have a Laurel Hill. But I'm almost a sure bet to improve on my 2010 tortoise pace this Saturday, April 9.

To honor my little sister's valiant fight against Batten disease, I'm pledging $5 for every minute under my 2010 time. I'm also asking friends to give anything they can in support of my run. I'll post my race result here on Sunday, April 10.

To donate, visit www.taylorstale.com/miles and click on the 'Donate' button in the sidebar.

I'm incredibly grateful for the support of all of our angels. Though we have many Laurel Hills ahead of us in the fight to save Taylor, we'll never stop fighting - or running.

944th

Early yesterday morning, I ran in the Tar Heel 10 Miler road race on the streets of Chapel Hill and the campus of my alma mater, North Carolina. The chilly, dew-kissed April morning danced on my skin; centuries-old buildings, hot pink and white azaleas and blooming dogwoods provided the landscape. I jogged through the historic Gimghoul district, down streets I'd never visited as an undergrad, up steep hills on heavily trafficked roads and down a wooded lane past the charactered Forest Theater. And, about an hour and a half after the starting horn sounded, I entered a sun-filled Kenan Stadium for one lap around the track before crossing the finish line - the 944th runner in the field to do so.

I didn't come close to winning this race and never will - not in my short-distance runner's body, and not as long as I'm dependent upon the joints I've all but ruined on the soccer field. Nevertheless, I experienced beautiful pockets of Chapel Hill for the first time. I got a great workout. I had fun. I had an excuse to spend the weekend with my best friend from college, who still lives near Chapel Hill. And I shaved three minutes off my per-mile pace time since my last race - a half marathon in December. 943 people beat me to the finish line, but I achieved every single one of my goals.

Batten disease is different. There is no margin for error, no success sweet enough to overcome the loss of children - something that happens everyday. I don't do what I do - write this blog, run board meetings, pray, you name it - to finish in the middle of the pack. I don't do it to feel good. It helps me believe, but it doesn't feel really good yet, because we don't have a cure. Sometimes, I get too caught up in the details - the mechanics - of what Taylor's Tale is trying to do. When that happens, I call my parents and ask them what they're up to. If I can, I'll go see my sister - kiss her on the top of her head, ask her for a hug, take a walk with her or snuggle on the couch to watch a movie. If I can't see Taylor in person, I'll ask my parents to hand her the phone. If she's watching TV, I'm not apt to garner very much of her attention. I'll get a 'hi Laura' right when she takes the phone. If I'm lucky, I'll also get a few other words before she hands the phone off to get back to her show. But it's enough. In my world, being able to call my sister and 'talk' to her - even if it's a one-sided conversation - is a blessing. I stopped taking more for granted a long time ago. No matter how I recenter myself, I always manage to do so, somehow.

Time wasn't the most important element of my race yesterday. Crossing the finish line was enough. When it comes to Batten disease, though, time is everything. Every month that goes by without a cure, more children die. I've never stopped believing that we can cure this awful disease. I know we'll cross the finish line someday. For the sake of all of the children who need our help NOW, though, my goal is to run FASTER. If I coast, they lose - and one day, I will lie awake in bed at night, wishing I could have one of those one-sided phone calls with my sister again.