Kindness is Contagious

The one thing that continuously strikes me about Get On The Bus is its spirit.  It seems that Get On The Bus brings out the best in all people, almost like the movie Pay It Forward, without all the bad stuff that happens in the end.  We have some of the most wonderful and dedicated volunteers around.  Not only do they give their time, but they do it in a way that is honoring both the children and the families that we serve.  I remember a couple of years ago one of our extraordinary volunteers not only reunited a child with her father, but reunited an entire family. 

* Names have been changed to protect identities.


Before *Carlos went to serve a sentence at California Men's Colony, he was the sole provider and guardian of his 6 children.  When he went to prison, his youngest child went with the biological mother and she took the oldest child too for the purpose of childcare.  The other children went to live with an aunt.  The aunt was an alcoholic and was very abusive toward the children.  The kids were between 5 and 12 at the time and they knew that they had to get out.  They waited one evening until aunt passed out and they left in their pjs.  They walked a few miles on a major road only to be stopped by the police.  The oldest knew that if she told the truth the plan to run away would be foiled.  They thought fast and told the cop that they were having a sleep over and were on their way to the local grocery store to get some snacks.  The cop bought it and the girls ended up successfully running away to their stepmother's house that night.  The children were caught and unfortunately, all became wards of the state.  Instead of being placed together, they were scattered throughout California. 

Carlos was heartbroken about what had happened with his children and when he signed up that year for Get On The Bus, he only signed up his youngest and oldest children as he had no idea where the others were.  One of our superstar volunteers got word that Carlos had other children and she made it her mission to bring all the children that year for Get On The Bus.  She knew that she had an uphill battle not only finding the children, but convincing the foster parents to let the children come.  In case the plan failed, she decided it was in the best interest of everyone if she didn't tell the other children or Carlos that she was working on this.  I am proud to say her hard work paid off.  On the day of the trip, the kids came on all different busses and they had a reunion in the waiting room with one another.  When they walked into the visiting room at CMC, there was not a dry eye in the place.  Carlos embraced the children and everyone wept.  They sat at a round table and they held hands with one another for the whole visit. 

Carlos has now been participating in Get On The Bus for a couple of years now.  This year after Get On The Bus, we went back into the prison and did an evaluation with the dads.  We gave everyone a chance to come up to the microphone and say something about what Get On The Bus had meant to them.  There was again no dry eyes in the room.  For the first time ever, everyone was embracing no matter what color, creed or afiliation.  When Carlos stepped up to the microphone, he held the photo of his children and he just started to cry.  He said without Get On The Bus, he would never see his children and his children would never see one another.  He said that words can not express what Get On The Bus has done for him and his family and one day, he hopes to repay the program.

I hold this story and many others close to my heart and I feel its spirit inspires others to emote kindness as well.  When I arrived a week ago on the East Coast, I was welcomed with the biggest snow storm of the year.  Having run myself down before I left, I was just starting to get sick and the idea of running alone in the middle of a blizzard didn't excite me all that much.  Out of desperation, I printed out a free pass to go to LA Fitness in Settlers Ridge in Robinson.  When I arrived, I was greeted by Wayne, one of LA Fitness's finest, at the front door.  When I gave him my free pass, we made small talk and I told him that I was training for the marathon.  As he attempted to sign me up for a membership, I told him that I was living out of town and I only needed to use the facility for today to do an eight mile run.  Instead of putting my pass into the system, which would have negated it in a couple of days he told me to keep it. 

Upon finishing, Wayne stopped me and asked me to have a seat.  He asked me for my license and I thought I was going to be put onto the "No Workout List".  Instead Wayne printed me a free pass to come and work out anytime I wanted to while I was home.  I have utlized my pass now three times, once yesterday to run nine miles!  I was overtaken by his kindness and I want to publically say, "Thank You" to Wayne as you are now a part of the Get On The Bus journey as well!

There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays

The best thing about working for Get On The Bus is to experience the sheer joy of the family reunions.  The families come from many different walks of life.  Some see each other regularly and most only but once a year.  The thing they all have in common is that they enjoy the atmosphere of family togetherness that Get On The Bus brings.  One adult child at CTF commented last year that Get On The Bus is the only time each year that the whole family can come together (on normal visiting days there is a maximum amount of visitors) and that they can do so in a comfortable environment where they feel honored, not shunned.  She said that Get On The Bus is their time to create long lasting memories with their father.  This not only makes me proud, but makes me reflective.

Having a loved one in prison can be compared to having someone you love very far away from you.  There are so many times in California when I just really want to be able to share a slice of pizza with my dad, go shopping with my sister and my mom or just sit by the fire with my aunt and grandmother, but distance makes this impossible.  This is why since we moved west, I have began to appreciate the beauty of my family that much more.  When we get a chance to all get together, the time is very special and we also create many memories in a short amount of time.  I cherish any time we have, much like our Get On The Bus clients.

Last night, we had one of the best dinners that we had in a while.  As Italian Americans, we did the feast of Seven Fishes.  We had fried shrimp, sword fish, scallops, orange roughy, crab cakes, buccala (dried salted cod fried) and of course homemade pasta with tuna fish.  Yummy!  Although the food was amazing, it was the company that really struck me.  For the first time in a very long time, everyone was there: my mom, dad, sister, Ron (her boyfriend), Joe, me, my aunt, grandma and cousin and we even had our honorary Italian guest Nabilini Riazi!  Not only did we share this wonderful meal together, but we got to share the company of everyone around us who we loved.  This is family. 

As I sit here and reflect on this Christmas Day, I think we will all agree...There is no place like home for the holidays.  I hope you and your family are able to experience the same joy today and for many years to come.  Once again, thank you all for your support and a very Merry Christmas to all!

Kids Helping Kids

Get On The Bus has thousands of volunteers throughout the state of California and the world for that matter.  However, the volunteers that strike me most are the kids.  Kids seem to understand most what it is like to not have their mommy/daddy around.  This blog entry is dedicated to all of my favorite stories throughout the years of kids helping kids. 

Recently, at a church in the Antelope Valley our superstar bus coordinator Dcn. Gary Poole and his lovely wife Jeannie went to read to a group of preschoolers at their school.  Dcn. Gary Poole read them the "Little Engine that Could," a story whose moral is for others to help the engine achieve its goal.  He then told them about Get On The Bus.  The class was so inspired that they organized a tricyclathon and got sponsors.  On their race day, the kids didn't have to worry about funding because they raised close to $1300 dollars, but they did have to worry about going the right direction around the circle. 

The next bit of exciting news is that Project What, a group of children, teens and young adults who have or have had a parent incarcerated are sponsoring a bus from the Oakland area for Father's Day.  This group is very vocal about how important it is for children to stay in contact with their parents.  On their website one of their participants was quoted, "What I remember most is just missing [mom] tremendously. On days like my first day of kindergarten or my birthday it was always sad because she couldn't be there for me. Mother’s Day was the hardest, because I remember buying her flowers, and then my dad telling me that I couldn’t give them to her. It was these little things that affected me the most. Throughout her incarceration, I was fortunate enough to visit her and stay in close touch, but it is important to understand that most people don’t have that. When a parent is taken away from you, there is nothing in the world that can replace them.”

Finally, a couple of years ago in Northern California, one of our wonderful volunteers went and told an elementary school class about Get On The Bus.  As she was explaining what the program was and how children could ride the bus to see their mommies and daddies who were in prison, one little girl raised her hand.  She said that she had a secret to share with the class and she stood up and said that her mommy was in prison and that she wanted to ride the bus.  That little girl got a chance to go on Get On The Bus and she was reunited with her mother once again.  However, equally as important she was able to release her secret in a comfortable environment where she was accepted by her peers. 

I hope these stories have touched you as much as they have touched me.  Thank you for all of your support and please continue to support me, it doesn't look good if my efforts are stood up by 3 year olds ;p. 

Sly Stallone Helping to Train Me for the Marathon, One Sighting at a Time...

So, when you are training for the marathon, you need some motivation.  The Get On The Bus kids are always a strong motivator, but unfortunately, I can't carry them along in my running pack.  So I go to my default, music.  I have jams from every genre that get me through when I feel that I can't take it anymore.  At any given time, you can see me singing along to everything from Lady A's "I Run To You" to Tupac's "How Do You Want It?" and everything in between.  However, there is one album that I save for when I hit my wall and that is the Rocky soundtrack. 

In the 1976 film, we followed the underdog boxer through all his trials and tribulations of training and life to eventually stand for 15 rounds against World Heavy Weight Champion Apollo Creed.  Although Rocky didn't win the match in the end, it was his journey that inspired us all.  I remember the famous scene where he runs up the steps at the Philadephia Art Museum with "Gonna Fly Now" playing in the background.  If that doesn't make you want to go out and change the world, I don't know what will.

So, now you are all wondering, what does this have to do with my training?  Well, Slyvester Stallone seems to appear when I need him most...when I am training for a marathon.  My first Sly Stallone sighting happened last summer when I was finishing a long run on a Sunday morning.  The Santa Monica Pier, my finish line, was in sight and out of the corner of my eye, he appeared.  He was dressed in a gray sweat suit and he was running toward me.  It was now 30 years after he filmed Rocky and his morning run had now turned into a trot.  I was incredibly exhausted, but after passing him in the other direction, I had to turn around.  Why some may ask?  Well, if you had a chance to say that you were able to leave Sly in the dust while running, would you?  Yeah, that's what I thought.  So, I turned around cued my Zune to "Eye of the Tiger" and took off.  As soon as he ate my dust and it wasn't obvious, I pulled off the path in an inconspicious manner.  I had done it, I beat Rocky!

Well, fast forward to today almost a year and a half later.  I was running my 7 miles this morning and again I am on my way back to the Santa Monica Pier and guess who is walking toward me yet again?  That's right Sly Stallone.  This time he was dressed in a black workout suit (that looked a lot more stylish than the first time I saw him) and he was walking.  This time I decided to make direct eye contact with him and when I did, he smiled and winked at me!!!  For the rest of my run, I was so excited I picked up my pace and came in right under 10 minutes for each mile.  So, it's official Rocky is on my team, are you?

Why Get On The Bus?

So, we've all heard of take your child to work day, but the concept of taking a child to prison for a day may be a little foreign to most.  As I go out and speak on behalf of the organization, I am often times presented with questions that ask just this.  Why is Get On The Bus a good thing?  The women in prison don't deserve it.  What if it is harmful for the children to see their parents?  What if the parents don't really want to see the children?  All of these are good and valid questions and many of you (even those of you who are my close friends and family) may have been wondering this.  The point of this blog entry is to address the voices of challenge.

First, let's learn a little about our Get On The Bus process.  Our process starts with the parents.  Why?  Because we want the parents to initiate contact with the children.  This way no participating child will be unsure if their parent wants to see them or not.  After the parents sign up the children, they are screened by each individual prison.  In order to be eligible for a visit, they can not have any visiting restrictions against minors.  This includes any crimes of child endangerment, neglect and abuse with their own children or other children.  Get On The Bus receives only those approved applications.  After we get them, our volunteers call each family and explain the program to them.  If a family says that they don't want to go for whatever reason, no means no and the parent and the children do not participate in Get On The Bus.  We only take those families who would like to go.

Now let's talk about the children.  I know that some of you can be thinking may the caregivers think this is a good thing, but how can this be a good thing for the children?  Research (Poehlmann 2005, Gauch 2003, Bernstein 2003) has proven that children who visit their incarcerated parents are better emotionally adjusted, have higher IQ scores, lower rates of delinquency and have more confidence. Most importantly these children tend to break the cycle of intergenerational incarceration.  In my opinion, this is Get On The Bus's biggest strength.  Through bringing the children to see their parents, they are not ending up in the place where most children who have a parent in prison do...prison.

Lastly, let's talk about the moms.  Thanks to popularized media shows like Prison Break or MSNBC's Lock Up, we all have an image of who people in prison are.  Media portrays them as unhuman, the derelicts of society that wear stripes and spend their time wasting away tax payer money and violently fighting with one another.  They don't care about anyone but themselves and they are dangers to society.  For many of the women in our prisons, this is the farthest thing from the truth.  According to the Bureau of Justice Statistics, 86% of the women incarcerated are serving nonviolent offenses.  Over 80% of these women were victim to sexual or physcial abuse as a child.  For many of these women, drugs and alcohol were their way of coping with abuse and now the reason why they are spending their days locked up.

According to a survey last year where we sampled the women who participated in Get On The Bus, the women who participated in our program wrote and talked to their children an average of 3-4 times per month, but when asked how often the children visited many said once a year for Get On The Bus.  When we asked what their biggest barrier in seeing their children was finances (as it costs an average of 500-700 dollars for a family of four to visit a woman at Chowchilla for the weekend) and distance (as most of the women incarcerated at Chowchilla are 300 miles plus away from their children).  For the women who return to society, having family visits is also largely correlated with a successful re-entry and significantly lowered recidivism rates.  And this my friends, is why children need to Get On The Bus.

A special note of thanks to Jan Urban for your donation.  :)

The Second Time's a Charm

When I decided to run the marathon for the first time, it prompted many to say, "Wow, are you crazy?"  Although I never readily admitted the answer to this question, I pondered it often.  Now that I am doing it for a second time around let me tell you, no one is asking for me for a self evalution on my sanity level.  Wonder why?  'Cause the answer is obvious...I am.  Anyone who freely elects to run 26.2 miles not once, but, twice, is.  What's the old phrase...fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me?  I think you get my gist.

So, what motivates someone to run 26.2 miles when we have modern inventions like cars, buses and trains?  What causes someone to subject their body to the physical pain involved in the intense training process?  What allows someone to override this pain with the power of their own mind?  Most importantly, as my husband always asks, "Why run if not chased?"

The answer for all marathon runners is a bit different.  However, for me, it was the toxic concoction of Maya Angelou's poem, "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings", the hit reality series "The Biggest Loser," and Malcom Gladwell's novel Blink, a book dedicated to the power of making decisions without actually knowing that you are thinking.  Gladwell coined the phrase thin-slicing, which is essentially using a narrow amount of information and then acting on your gut reaction, which will warrant the best decision.

While watching an episode of the Biggest Loser where the four finalists ran the marathon, I was overwhelmed with tears of joy for the contestants.  Only a few short weeks ago, most of them were double their size and now they were running the marathon.  Although I have never myself been that heavy, I did used to live my life in a body 35 pounds heavier than what I am right now.  I hated the way I looked, which in turn, caused me to start to hate who I was.  I dreamed that one day I would be as happy as my skinny friends.  Through a lot of hard work, this day has finally come.  As the four contestants crossed the finish line, I knew that I had to run this marathon, not only for me, but for the children who ride Get On The Bus.

The caged bird sings


with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom.  -Maya Angelou

Thank you once again to all those of you who have been supporting me both morally and financially.  I appreciate all your encouraging comments and e-mails.  Keep them coming.  A special thank you to Joe's cousins Rebecca and Steve Dutka and my friend Caitlin Durham for your donations!

I get by with a little help from my friends...

For those of you who have never trained for a marathon, let me share with you the recipe.  It is a true process.  You combine short runs 3-4 miles two-three times a week with one long run on the weekend.  Thinking about running 26.2 miles alone is enough to send anyone into a tizzy.  It is just a much a mental game as a physical one.  It is all about building up endurance and pushing through the obstacles.  Sounds a little like life, huh?

That said, if you are interested in tracking my training more specifically, you can follow the link on the right hand side of the blog titled, "Map My Run".  Here you can learn about when I am running and how my training is coming in a bit more detail.  You can also feel free to comment if you think I am slipping up a bit ;p.

So now back to the story of the day... I did my first long run of 6 miles.  Today coincidentally was also the California International Marathon (CIM).  As you may have read in my first entry, one year ago today I was running that 26.2 mile dash with the best supporters in the world my husband Joe, my girl and running mentor Jess and my mom Donna.  I remember around mile 18 I dropped behind my 4:30 pace group and felt defeat surge through my body.  By mile 21, I was starting to lose hope and feeling in my limbs due to the sharp pains running through my body.  At that time, I thought about giving up and quitting and let me tell you, I really wanted to and my knees and my feet still wish I had ;p.  However, Jess, the same girl who encouraged me to do the marathon, refused to give up on me now.  I was at my weakest hour and I had thrown in the towel, but she was there for me and she literally stood beside me making sure that I crossed the finish line.  She accepted me at my darkest hour for that I am forever grateful.  This is the true definition of a friend.

Now one year later, as I was running on the beach with my running partner Leanne, I had that same thought of giving up and thinking this is too hard and I am too (insert any demeaning adjective here) to do the marathon.  However, every time I thought of quitting, Leanne pushed me just as Jess had one year ago.  Not only did she push me not to stop, but she pushed me to go faster.  Believe it or not, we finished our 6 mile run today doing 10:40 miles.  At this pace, my goal of 4:30 (12 minutes faster than last year) is completlely doable. 

Today, you have all become my supporters.  For that, I feel blessed and on that note, I would like to write a special note of thanks to Joe's Aunt Barbara and Uncle Arnold for being my first donation.  I really am touched by your support and Joe thanks you too. 

Thanks again to everyone!  You are all amazing and I am blessed to have you in my life. 

My Get On The Bus Story

This is an essay I wrote about the first family I encountered through the Get On The Bus program (pictured on the site) and melded with my own Get On The Bus story.  Note, names have been changed to protect people's identities....


With MapQuest directions, a tote bag full of paperwork, and an unsteady stomach, I ventured off to a place foreign to me. . . South Central Los Angeles, an area known for gangs, drugs and broken dreams. From the perspective of this small-town suburban Pennsylvania native, this place seemed to lack in value.

As I pulled off the exit, I immediately realized that I was unwelcome. My presence seemed to draw the interest of a few local street loiterers as one nodded my way and said, “White chick don’t know where she be.” As I navigated through the streets clutching my will tensely, a drug bust unraveled before my eyes. Further disillusioned, I realized the man’s nonchalant comment was absolutely true. I had no idea where I was and started to doubt why I had agreed to come here.

I identified my final destination, and luckily found a parking spot in front. My mission was to meet with a family on behalf of Get on the Bus. I was in charge of filling out required paperwork for the prison so that families could be approved for the upcoming visit. Upon arrival, I quickly gathered my bag and made a dash for the apartment complex. Apprehensively, I searched for the doorbell while my mind began to wander to four years earlier. . .

It was a sticky summer morning in Pittsburgh and I was preparing to leave for my summer internship. As I rushed down the steps of my parents’ home, I heard a doorbell. I peered through the window of the front door and saw two men dressed in dark suits. I had no clue who they were, but their presence seemed unsettling.

I opened the door and the morning light flashed across a badge adorned with three engraved, recognizable letters--F.B.I. “Tom Clark* and Victor Levy*, F.B.I,” they stated, “we are looking for Joseph Costanzo, Jr.” I politely told them that he was not at home. They informed me that they needed to speak with him and know his whereabouts immediately. I took an uneasy breath and explained to the men that he was at our family restaurant. The men gave me an empty “Thank you,” and disappeared.

Back in Los Angeles, Ms. Alice Turner* appeared at the door. She greeted me and led me into her apartment. The dwelling was small and unkempt. After falling into conversation, I learned that she shared the one bedroom apartment with three of her grandchildren, all belonging to her incarcerated daughter Vanessa. Her deep-set, dark eyes looked drained and overwhelmed. I knew that in a couple of minutes we would have to start the paperwork and the questioning, but not yet. As we sat and made small talk, she seemed relieved to take a break from her reality, and I was happy to mask mine…

Immediately after the two men left the house, I ran to the phone and called my father. I explained to him exactly what happened and that I was concerned. He reassured me with gentle words. He promised to call me as soon as they left. I sat in vigil by the phone for three hours . . . nothing. I frantically speculated about what they were asking him.

As I pulled out the paperwork, the room fell silent. Moments later, the bustle of the children barging into the house filled the empty air. Alice introduced everyone: Sam*, 19, was the oldest. He was a husky boy who seemed withdrawn. Tom*, 5, was a ball of energy. With inexhaustible enthusiasm, he launched into a discussion about kindergarten, Spongebob, G.I. Joe, and his love of cookies. Angel*, 3, was the youngest. With a child’s innocence, she bonded with me by crawling into my lap. I soon felt right at home. My moment was cut short, however, by the inevitable questioning I knew I had to begin. Clearing my throat, I remembered how it felt to be on the other side of the table…

After being held in suspense, I finally heard from my father. He said the questions revolved around a federal grand jury investigation in which his name was mentioned. The F.B.I. suspected he was doing something illegal, and they planned to criminally prosecute him. After a four-year investigation filled with questions for my father and family, that’s exactly what happened.

When he went to prison, I remember being jealous of him because at least he was able to escape the stigma of his sentence. I couldn’t; I was labeled as child of the incarcerated. This humiliating label made me the focus of small town gossip, shameful whispers, and looks of disappointment. My father’s incarceration stripped me of my former identity and replaced it with my new self-image drenched in fear and isolation.

As I glanced down at the paperwork, I drifted back to reality. I started with the usual questions: name, telephone number and address. Alice was shooting out answers faster than I could write. When I asked whether she or any of her grandchildren had been convicted of a felony crime, the once verbose Alice turned silent. Quietly, she nodded and answered, “Yes.” We both knew what that meant: she would not be able to visit her daughter. I reached out and gave her a hug. Holding back the tears, she laughed and said, “You are very different from those other prison worker folks.” She had no idea.

On the day of the visit, I arranged to have the children ride the bus with me. After a four-hour visit with their mother Vanessa*, the children were worn out from eating hotdogs, playing tag, and braiding their mother’s hair. On the ride back, I had the pleasure of sitting with Angel. Right before she nodded off to sleep, I saw a tear in her eye. As I wiped the tear, my own eyes began to well with emotion. Angel reached over and wiped my tear and it dawned on me that we were not so different from each other. I learned a powerful lesson that day on the bus when Angel said, “Don’t cry Maria, I am here.” For the first time in a long time, I let all the hurtful accusations melt away.

Even though Angel and I parted soon after, her compassionate act will always remain with me. The moment that we shared further solidified my desire to go into this field. She and other children are my motivation for working toward justice for all.  As Emerson once said, “Life becomes broken, but some become stronger in the jagged edges.”

To Run or Not To Run...That is the question.

One year ago almost to the day, I did something that I would have thought utterly impossible: I ran the marathon. On a cold December morning in Folsom, CA, my sister Kelly and I culminated our months of hard work, determination and training with a 26.2 mile dash to Sacramento. Our first marathon!

Sounds like this is something right out of a movie on the Lifetime Channel, right? Two sisters separated by 3,000 miles with one bond, the marathon...(insert sad music). I wish this was a well thought up script and plot, but those of you who know me well know that I am at times the Queen of Random. My life has been plagued with random events that lead my friends to respond, "Only Maria" after they hear the details of my lastest escapades.

My intention for running my very first marathon happened much of the same way. I was home for a visit and I went out for a 3 mile run and felt like I was going to die. I ran from my house to my high school, which was a pleasant jog until I turned around to come home. I then realized that my outbound jog had been so pleasant because it was all downhill. The leftover 1.5 miles return may seem pretty cursory, but adding the heat, humidity and incline it really felt like 26.2. When I got home, I got thinking, which is normally the impetus to one of my "Random Ideas". What would running 26.2 miles really look like? How would one train for it?

Out of curiosity only, I decided to call my friend Jessica who was a marathon extraordinare. She had done something obscene like run more than one marathon in a year for a bunch of years. Keep in mind in between she stopped for a few months to have her first baby, but as soon as Aubs came out she started running marathons again and lost all of her pregancy weight within weeks time. If she wasn't such an amazing person and a fabulous friend, this would cause real reason to hate her ;p. I broached her with the question of how one (meaning her, not me) trains for a marathon?

Now before I tell you her answer, allow me to explain the mindset of marathon runners, as it may be a little foreign to most. Let's put it this way, allow yourself to take a trip down memory lane. When you were growing up, do you remember the kids who were great at peer pressure? They could get anyone to try anything at anytime. They probably introduced most of us to our first rebellous decision, whether it be cutting a class, trying your first beer or getting parts of your body pierced/tattooed? Remember how cool that person seemed and what a good idea they made (insert bad decision here) seem like at the time? Yeah, well marathon runners are a lot like these people.

Now back to my conversation with Jess, when I posed the marathon question to her, she responded very excitedly in one breath with a, "Great, you are going to run the marathon. This is amazing. I know just the one for you...California International Marathon. I have run it a bunch of times. I know every nook and cranny of this course and it is so much fun. I am going to get started right now on a plan for you. We are about 5 months away from you big race so no time to waste. This is so great and I am so proud of you."

As I sat on the other line, I went through several emotions. The first was confusion. Did I say I was going to run the marathon? I thought I said how would one train for the marathon? At no point did I remember using any first person language. Then I thought well maybe I could try this running thing out for a while to appease my friend and then miraculously after week one, injure myself to never run again? Then by the end of her sentence, I thought, "Hell yeah, I am going to do this and I am going to win it."

So the story starts to unfold.