So I wrote earlier that I was up waaaayy too late Friday night stuffing envelopes to go out today.

This is the letter that is going to bring WWC the big bucks, that's going to go to honor Imette's name, the letter that I sent not only to  Rosie Perez and Denis Leary and Liz Garbus and Rory Kennedy and other folk, but also to my beloved family and friends in the US and on la isla.  Still working on translating it into Spanish which will take some time, since my Spanish skills seem to be deteriorating the longer I'm away.

Therefore, y'all probably want to know (if you're not here because you got said envelope) what the letter says. I mean, it's so important that I chose it over a group run, right?

Well, it's on the AIDS Marathon Training Program letterhead so thoughtfully provided to me in the enthusiastic burst of fundraising support I got when I signed up for the marathon.  It's pretty- red and black logo on cream paper, with a 2 inch margin on the side- and it says:

   Dear Wonderful Giving Person,

I'm asking for your support- let's increase awareness about AIDS, and help our community together.  I'll be running the Rock'n'Roll Half Marathon this Labor Day, in Virginia Beach, VA.  Yes, I'm going to run 13.1 miles!  I was on the crew team in high school and college- and the only running I've done was back in trainin, years ago.  I 've never really been a runner.  But I'm stepping outside my experiences to train and run to benefit AIDS patients and their families.  Each week, I've been running a bit farther- by the end of the marathon this September 4th, I'll have completed over 200 miles.

HIV and AIDS are infecting and affecting young people, as well as others with families, so I'm trying to raise awareness for prevention.  These are folk who are increasingly like me- young, with their whole lives ahead of them.  This is for our community.  And health promotion is my passion, and the focus of my studies.  So I'm doubly committed to the fight against AIDS.  My training and run is for affordable health care here in the Washington, DC area, and to help everyone keep in mind that this disease still exists and kills millions.  I run to prove that we can run the distance.  And I run in memory of my friend and GWU c/o 2003 classmate Imette St. Guillen, who did not have AIDS, but was killed, as you might have heard, in February of this year.  Imette was smart and compassionate.  She's from Boston, a city famous for marathons- this is something she might have done, and I like to think that she's cheering us on.

All funds that I raise for the marathon go to the Whitman-Walker Clinic.  Founded in 1973, it provides the most HIV/AIDS services here in the Washington metropolitan region- and since one in twenty adults of the District area are estimated to have HIV, that's a lot of service!  The Clinic and its branches provide housing assistance as well as medical, legal, and other counseling services and support.  Whitman-Walker Clinic is relying on support from this major fundraiser to keep providing life-changing services that are essential here in DC. 

All of this is why I'm raising at least $2,500 before August 1st. {SHOOT!  Typo- The letter says AUGUST 1st, not JULY 5th!  AWWWW man….} Why $2500?   Imette and I and our classmates turn 25 this year.  I'll happily accept a donation for this cause, instead of other birthday gifts.  Also, $2500 is over the minimum amount I must give in order to participate in the final run- and of course, I'd love to raise even more cash.  If 100 people give just $25, our goal will be met; but any amount you can give- $5, $10, the change from the penny jar- is excellent.  I've sent you my personalized donation form, and an envelope.  Even if you can't give now, please save the materials for later.   Donations on my behalf may be given even after the race is over.   Checks should be made to AIDS Marathon DC.  And if you've aleady donated to your charity this year, please pass the form- spread the word- to your friends and co-workers who want to join us in this effort.  You can even follow my training efforts through my blog at MarisaMarathon.wordpress.com, or sponsor me- runner number 0698- at www.aidsmarathon.com.  Feel free to leave your encouragement!

I've said that I rowed competitively, but this marathon is the biggest effort I've yet to make my body attempt.  Yet 13.1 miles is nothing compared to what our community members with HIV/AIDS face day by day.  This is my best opportunity so far to fight HIV and AIDS personally.  And an excellent way to celebrate life.

I want to thank you for your support and unity in this race.  On Labor Day, September 4th, I'll be thinking of you, and thanking you, as I cross the finish line.

Forward,

Marisa S______

I was so surprised last week. I did 6 miles over at the Waterfront site, after two weeks of running on my own (due to necessity- being in NYC and also just being bummed).

Just because I'd been missing the waterfront/mall/museum mile runs, on Saturday when I arrived, I said I'd do the run with the slowest group (17 minute miles) just to be on the safe side.  Plus, and this was my real issue, they were doing the 1/3 ratio that I'm in love with.  I did 15 minute miles on the run1walk3, so that's my gig and I'm stickin' with it.  Since they try to keep us at about 1 minute behind our actual pace,  I was supposed to be running 16 min. miles anyhow.

So, why'd we  end up doing 15:30 miles for SIX MILES?  And that's the raw split time, not even counting my partner Mickey's potty break, or the fact that we walked a couple laps due to the heat.  Seriously?  Coach was right- 6 miles was way easier than one!  I wanted to keep running when we were through.  I actually had a problem at one point- I wasn't sweating.  The nicest vendor in front of the National Museum of Natural History gave me a handful of ice, no charge. That was refreshing.

Mickey loved that it felt like we had the city to ourselves.  And it did- no tourists for the first time in a while.  The mall hasn't been killed by the heat, so everything is green, and we run pretty early.  Toward the end we had to slow up to let a HUGE group of 8th graders (said the t-shirts)  cross the street in front of the Grant Statue.

My maintenance runs this week were similarly breezy.  I just took myself up to the Wal-Mart on Rt 1 (hey, it's an easy landmark) and back home. 

Now, I was supposed to be at the Waterfront today to do 7 miles, but I slept in.  No, don't frown at me, don't boo me- I was writing, stuffing, and sealing envelopes for my fundraiser!  So if you're reading this, know that you probably got your letter at the expense of a group run.

I'm making a treat of going to Huntley Meadows park tomorrow to run under that shady canopy instead.  For 7 miles.  And I'm going to move up to a 1/2 because if I can clock 15:30 at a slow 1/3, I need to push up the effort a little. 

 And I'm excited!  Who'd've thought I could do 6 miles at one time so easily?  Man, if I get the $2100 in time, 13.1 is gonna be a piece of cake!

Well, I certainly hope things improve. 

 My determination notwithstanding, I haven't run as much as I need to in order to stay on track.  And my fun-draising isn't off the ground. 

 Yet.

See, I lost my job, and though I am sooooo employable, haven't got a new one.  I also went to see my grad school to see if I'd go.  I'm going, God willing, with a lot of loans.\

So, I did my 4-miler in NYC with my very-good friend and former co-teacher (read: ganger-up on student-er) Maggie, in Thomas Jefferson park.  Let me pause here and say that I LOVE the NYC park system and can't WAIT to do my last long run before the marathon there.

If I do the marathon. Got a month to raise $1,000- and no handy co-worker base to work with. I'm working on that. 

Now is a good time to head over to that side-bar and donate, before I blitz you with letters and calls and emails!  You can fend me off better if you've already helped.

 Ah, yes, tonight the half-hour run will be so good….

Sorry about that last post.  I was trying not to say what I'm about to say.

 I'm running/walking/- no COMPLETING- the Rock'N'Roll Half Marathon in Imette's honor.  You guys know that.  

Her death and the emotions it caused rolled across the nation.  I don't know that I'll ever be able to express how I felt when I got that phone call.

Every time I see her face on a news program, I get really sad.  Really sad.  They always use this one picture of her from her high school yearbook.  It gives me this jolt of recognition.  They always say her name funny.  I never called her "Emmett",  always "EEmette", with the i latina  del español. 

Her mom is soooo tiny, with red and white hair. I remember meeting her, just the once, during parents' weekend up at GW.  Frank was with them. Imette definitely got the brightness of her smile from her mom.  She was so energetic, yo.  Her mom said something last night on the CNN newscast that just resonated.

"She was fantastic.  She was just fantastic."   I have to agree.

You know, I say that I'm running this in Imette's memory, but through all my efforts I have no idea if her mom's okay with this.  I hope so.  Just as I like to think that Imette's cheering me on.  On the hard miles and especially during this last hard patch, I can hear her SO distinctive voice, not letting me give up.  But the truth is, I run to honor her, because I'll never really know if she's okay with this or not.  All I can do is look for the signs, and cross off the miles I run on roads I'll never know if she sees.  I don't really know how to honor a fantastic person who died so wrongly.  But I chose this.
So tonight, when I run, I know that God is with me.  I hope Imette asks him to send a wind to dry my tears. 

You look in a mirror and you don't like what you see.

It's a warm day for December; the new year is coming.

You decide to change-

and run.

Your sister comes along, perkily, until you tell her that

you love her, but she's already thin and happy, and you'd rather

run solo

so you can leave dark thoughts trailing around the subdivision. 

You work two jobs

and run.

You teach poor, urban, wonderfully smart Latino kids, and after you arrive home at 10pm,

you run.

You make contact with people who didn't know you were back from the island, and in between,

you run.

You get that acceptance letter from that long-shot Ivy school.

you run.

A good friend dies and you can't see sense in life.

you stop.

You work a new job.

And sit all day and talk.

You grow lethargic and fat and unchangingly sweet.

You find life doesn't make sense unless you're living it.

One day someone gives you a chance to get outside your self pity. 

You run

with all the force of life, after that.

Even when some good friends don't return calls,

you run on.

Your edge grows. You're hungry for life, now. You run miles you never thought you'd see.

Even when you're laid off by telephone with no warning or reason,

you don't know how to get money for that ivy league school that you can't believe accepted you,

can't and won't afford to drown your sorrows at others' invitation,

the kitchen sink overflows and soaks your basement bedroom including your mattress,

the man you want is out with another girl cuz you passed up your chance at him,

you're relying on God and God alone for the next step,

you realize what a gift it is to be alive, to be able to use your entire body for someone that isn't you, who's doing worse than you, who'll never go a fraction of the places you've been.

You lace up those worn-out sneakers, pull on a headscarf, and you get moving.

You live,

you run.

So, the "group" run today was our last solo style run.  We did 3 miles; I'm both pleased and ashamed to say that I came in under 15 mins/mile.  (did it in 44:10). 

On one hand, that's wayyyy better than I did last week.  Last week was shameful.  I don't even want to think about it.  So coming in under 15 mins per mile was great, esp. when you count being held up by traffic lights and tourists and such over by the mall.

On the other hand, I can just hear my crew coaches yelling at me from the past:" c'mon, Marisa, you can push better than that!  You should be doing a 10-minute mile!!"  Ah, yes, ghosts of fitness past.

I was tired but able to walk home.  DIdn't sweat much, tho, and that's got to change if I'm gonna keep running.

 Now, for fundraising…

Remember that song by Salt'N'Pepa from the 80's? (for those of you who can't remember back that far, it's now popular because of the Nextel/Sprint commercials where the 3 random guys are dancing to it in their office and are interrupted by their boss.)

Yeah, I've been pushin' it. Oooh, baby bay-beh.

I've gone on a couple of the solo runs that I committed to do in order to train. Three, actually. The first was at night, when the moon was almost full. The air was SO sweet! And the stars were kinda hidden, but once in a while one or two would peek through. And imagine, I was running with my Fabolous 'Street Dreams' CD in my walkman. I didn't think that particular music would keep me motivated, but I ran 2 miles (WHEW!! Ran most of it, only walked once, and then cooled off at the end) and it had me pumped. "Fly enough to do better but gifted enough to not give a –"

Ahem. I was saying?

"What, no iPod?", I hear you ask.

Nope. Lemme tell y'all a secret. I'm still running with the walkman my mother gave me for my 21st b-day. When I first came back from Puerto Rico I didn't even know what an iPod was. No, no joke. If it weren't for the weight of my cd-spinnin' music machine I wouldnt' care, but the thing is heavy. I drool over micro-mini iPods on the last leg of the run leading home.

My other two runs have been in the mornings before work. My position now means I start at 10A instead of 7:30A, so I gots it like that. I really pushed those runs. Dripped sweat, really ran full out. Past the horse farm. Ohhh remind me to tell you about that experience later. But yeah. Then I sat down all morning at work and stiffened up. I'm thinking there has to be a better way to do this, because I love running at night but it's hard to get out the door, and even harder to get over my fam's objections. Don't get me wrong, the neighborhood's a safe one. (I mean, we have a police station and a hospital in the same block where I run, so I'm not worried about crime.) It's just the whole specter of having your loved one disappear into the darkness that's freaking them out.

After Feb. 25th I understand that a lot better.

peace

Marisa

That letter? The one on the AIDSMarathon site if you follow my links? The one that says my goal is $2,100? It's almost correct. But um…

Well, I didn't write it. But I'm writing the form to update it. Still, everything on it is true except for the fact that our goal is $5,000.

Just so you know.

~Marisa

Hi! Thanks for stopping in!

Wait, don't leave yet!  You have the opportunity to build on something good before you go.  Or at least learn a story to pass along.

I'm Marisa.   I'm 24 years old; and currently I live in Alexandria, VA, right outside Washington, DC.  I'm really excited to be training to run my first 1/2 marathon ever, with the National Aids Marathon Training Program.   You're here for my first steps, something historic, at least for me.  Thanks for coming.

I'm going to finish this marathon in memory of Imette St. Guillen, my friend and GWU c/o 2003 classmate, who was killed earlier this year.  She was a smart, funny, and determined person, so I think my training and this cause will serve her memory well.  And I'll be sure to tell you guys about Imette as the miles go by.

My run is a fundraiser to benefit the Whitman-Walker Clinic  here in DC.  They're a major provider of ahem, affordable health care in this area.  And they're the principal provider of AIDS care here.  Since 1 in 20 people here in the District- yes, I said One in Twenty- have HIV or AIDS, the clinic serves a significant part of this city. I've been hearing about them since I came to DC to start at GW in '99.   The clinic is struggling for funding this year.

No, Imette didn't have AIDS.  But she was spontaneous and compassionate.  I believe she'd probably run with me.

I can't think of a better way to take action or a better cause to serve Imette's memory.

Here's the deal: the goal is to raise at least $2,500 for this marathon. (if you can't click on this, go to AidsMarathon.com, click on Support a Runner for WDC, and enter runner number 0698.) That's what I'm here to do.  The super-awesome goal is $5,000.  Why those numbers?  Well, Imette died five days before her 25th birthday.  And I, along with the majority of  our c/o 1999/2003 classmates, will turn 25 this year.   We can do that much.  But if we don't have $2,100 banked by July 5th, the clinic keeps the cash, which is all good, but I won't have earned entry into the marathon, and so I won't cross that finish line for Imette and all those who live in the District with AIDS. 

So this blog is going to be one of many ways to reach out.  You can click here to donate toward our $2,500 goal.  My runner number is 0698.   I've also started a letter-writing campaign.  So if you've ever known me, get ready for a letter or an email to come your way, even if you haven't seen me in about 10 years.  It's worth it.

This blog, I must confess, is also a way to record my thoughts and feelings and where I'll come for the "you can do it!" cheerleading and ideas when charlie horse and sore hammies hit.  I mean, I was on the crew team when I was undergrad, but that was a while ago.  Now I sit at a desk all day.  And I never before ran, walked, or otherwise used my feet to go 14 miles in one go.

The first group run was this past Saturday, May 6th.  It was a rush to be there, but it was only a mile run.  I've got two training sessions this week of half an hour.  Those are where the journey really starts.

This is the challenge of a lifetime that I'm taking up to honor a wonderful woman.  Thanks for sharing this- and your support- with me.

 ~Marisa