I've been sitting with my Hood to Coast experience for a week now: remembering and replaying the highlights in my mind. A week ago I was in a van riding back to Seattle from Seaside, OR during that van ride I quickly jotted down a list, trying to capture as much as possible what was going on inside me. The list looked something like this: I feel connected.

I feel empowered.

I feel confident.

I feel grateful.

I feel full.

I feel excited.

I feel purposeful.

As with all experiences some details start to fade, but there were moments of this experience that were so profound I know they will be with me forever. And those are the ones I want to share with you. So rather than a day by day recap, I want to share with you the significant moments: the moments that changed me and inspired the list you just read.

This Year and a Pebble

When I put together my video application to be on Nuun's Hood to Coast team part of me didn't believe I had a shot: that I wasn't outgoing enough or funny enough. But a very small part of me knew that I would be chosen. Not in a cocky, self-confident kind of way. No. In a quiet sense that I was meant to be there. It turns out that part of me was right.

When I found out in April that I would be on the team my son, Jack was in the middle of his expansion process. August seemed so far away and he still had a major surgery planned for May. I tried to picture what it would be like to run with Nuun I tried to get excited about the race, but all I could think about was the fact that by the time August rolled around Jack would be done. His scar completely healed, almost a year old the whole ordeal of the past year would be behind us. To me August felt like a finish line. I just had to make it to August and then I could enjoy Hood to Coast. Which is why when we were on vacation at the beach at the beginning of August I picked up a little pebble from a tide pool Sophia and I had been exploring. As small as it was, somehow it caught my eye. I think it was the white line around the middle. A line. A scar. I tucked that little pebble in my pocket and it flew with me to Seattle.

A pebble plucked from a tide pool in Maine came with me to Seattle.

For so much of this year I've put my head down and powered through. In many instances I've allowed myself to feel the weight of the emotions only briefly, before reigning it all back in and soldiering on. There are bums to be wiped and dinners to cook and floors to sweep and runs to run. Rare is the moment I get to be alone and simply FEEL. I got that on the plane on Wednesday on my way out to Seattle. Slowly the fear and hurt and pain of some of the things I've experienced this year found its way to the surface and tears streamed down my face. I spent much of that flight reflecting, crying and making trips to the bathroom to clean up my face. (Darn that new organic mascara that is NOT waterproof.) By the time I landed for my connection in Chicago I was empty of all the emotion I'd been holding in and finally ready to be excited about what I was about to do.

Sarah, Put Your Big Girl Panties On!

Whether it is apparent or not on these pages (I'm guessing it is not) my tendency is to act as an introvert, to withdraw and simply watch. I slunk through high school that way, withdrawing and disengaging for fear of being rejected. It's why I skipped lunch and went directly to the library every single day: if I didn't walk into the cafeteria I wouldn't have to make the choice of what table to sit at and possible eat alone. It was easier for me to choose to be alone than to be left alone by others. I've worked hard to fight this tendency as an adult and for the most part have succeeded, I am not the withdraw introvert that I used to be. But there are moments that in an instant can take me back and suddenly I am 16 again worried about what people think of me, if I'm good enough and whether or not they will accept me. Wednesday night was one such occasion. All 36 women (three, 12-person teams) plus all the Nuun employees gathered that evening for bowling and food.

People. Lots of them. Turns out they are all amazing. Most people are.

As we arrived I stepped outside to call my husband and say "good night" to my kids who on east coast time were getting ready for bed. When I stepped back inside the crowed had grown, more people had arrived from the airport and everyone seemed to be engaged with someone else: laughing, talking in animated tones, basically having a blast. I stood there. It was the high school cafeteria all over again. I felt myself wanting to withdraw, to disengage and find a wall where I could carefully perch myself and become a flower. If I didn't actually slap myself in the face in that moment I would be surprised. Sarah! I yelled at myself. Get your big girl panties on! You are not THAT girl anymore. You are here for a reason. Be confident in who you are and what you have to offer. It took me a moment but I walked right over to someone who was standing alone and started a conversation: "Big groups kind of scare me. I'm trying really hard not to be a wallflower right now." Her response: "I know! I feel the same way!" In that moment I decided to show up. And I'm so glad I did because the rest of the night was all about making connections.

Dorothy and Lisa: incredibly gracious and genuine women.

[I now have a theory about bloggers,: most of us ARE introverts, which is why we write, it's the safest form of expression for us. But put us all in a room together and chances are some of us are totally freaked out, deer in the headlights. If we don't decide to show up and engage then we keep standing around thinking that all the other girls standing around are judging and rejecting us. Vicious cycle. No one wins. So, if you're like me and are a recovering introvert make the decision to SHOW UP. You have a lot to offer.]

Running with the "Big Girls"

The next morning we all made our way over to Oiselle Head Quarters which is based in Seattle and supplied each Nuun team with some amazing gear for the relay. The plan was to drop our bags, go for a run around Green Lake (three miles) and then go back to HQ to hear from Sally Bergesen, Oiselle's founder and CEO.

The people running around Green Lake have no idea what's coming.

At the start of the run it became apparent that some wanted to run more than one loop. My mileage that week had been low and I was coming off a confidence boosting tempo workout, couple that with spending most of the previous day sitting on a plane, my legs wanted to RUN. We finished the first loop and stopped. The group started to break off into those who wanted to keep running and those who didn't. I stood in between slightly paralyzed as I realized that those who wanted to keep running were all the girls on the "fast team." I'm talking sub three hour marathon fast. I hesitated. I wanted to run, but felt like I didn't belong. In my mind I pictured them turning around and asking "What are you doing? You're not fast enough to run with us." [Kind of crazy how judgmental MY OWN mind can be.] Just then I heard Jes, from rUnladylike.com pipe up: "Go for it Sarah!" And with that I took off with the "fast girls." And you know what? They didn't turn around and ask what I was doing there, they simply welcomed me in. I mean there "easy" pace is more like my tempo pace, but that didn't matter to them. I think many times I judge situations and people based on my own insecurities. In so many instances my fears go unrealized because they are MADE UP and completely unfounded. It is probably the single, most powerful limiting factor in my life. When I think about who I dream Sophia will grow up to be, I dream that she will be confident in who she is and what she has to offer. I dream that she will always aspire to run with the "big girls," to not be intimidated by those more talented than she, but to be willing to learn from them.

The fast and incredibly gracious and amazing ladies of Team Cherry-Limeade.

A Team

Early Friday morning all the girls in Team Watermelon's Van 1: Catey, Hannah, Kara, Megan, Mallory and myself piled into our decorated van and started the four hour drive to Mt. Hood.

Team Watermelon Van 1. Our driver Jeantal, Megan, Kara, Mallory, Hannah, Catey and myself.

Once we were sufficiently caffeinated (by yet another stop at Starbucks...I seriously think I had more Starbucks this past weekend than I've had in my entire life) and on the road we started talking. Within moments we were all in tears as Catey shared the miraculous story of her son, Sam's birth. In that moment we weren't runners, we were women sharing some of the deepest, most emotional struggles of life. When we finally arrived at Mt. Hood we were a team, something happened in that van that drew us all together. There was a connection, created by honesty and vulnerability and that connection felt really powerful.

When we stepped out of the van the atmosphere was electric with anticipation and excitement. We all donned our Oiselle Jackets and Sparkle Skirts and not only did we feel like a team, we looked like a team. It must be, on a very small scale, what Olympians feel like when they represent their country at the Olympics. We were all there representing our team: Nuun Watermelon about to start a race that would take us 198 miles away from Mt. Hood to Seaside, Oregon. It felt so much different than any other race I've lined up for, it wasn't about my performance, it was about OUR TEAM.