Dynamic Duos: Baby Jogger to Marathon

Gretchen K

Despite allowing life to kick us off the training plan, my mom and I managed to push through the headwind on Wall Street and cross the finish line of the 2014 NYC Half Marathon side by side 6 minutes ahead of our goal. Back at my apartment, my dad expressed his genuine (and somewhat unsurprised) congratulations at our unexpected success. And then he asked the usual question, “So do you think you guys could have done that by yourself?” The answer for both of us: no.

My mom and I have always been a team. We called ourselves pals ever since my biological dad Rodney unexpectedly passed when I was a toddler (Note: She is since remarried to Taner). As the very definition of dynamic suggests, there is undoubtedly a force between us strong enough to span the 1,800 miles between New York City and Denver making us a sure-fire dynamic duo.

Pals forever! (Gretchen: Age 2)

My mom started running in college “to burn off the beer calories” as she likes to remember. As she moved around the country for work, joining a running club was on the top of her list in each new city. Needing a male running companion for safety and an extra push in the early mornings, she found a running friend in Rodney, which eventually led to marriage, a daughter, and a blissful life taking turns cheering for each other at races across the country. After my dad passed, my mom again turned to running in the hopes of using some physical pain to mask some of the emotional trauma.

My first memories of running are from my hours spent in a red baby jogger wrapped in a blanket munching on an ego waffle in a coffee filter and counting squirrels (dead or alive) along the streets of Kansas City. In a stroke of grief stricken desperation (or genius) my mom decided to fulfill Rodney’s dream of completing the Hawaii Ironman in Kona. This is where my hours in the baby jogger really started to multiply. Luckily for my mom, I was a very satisfied baby as long as I knew where she was—in this case she was the steady and determined engine pushing me along through neighborhood after neighborhood.

Gretchen and Rachel training for the Kona Ironman together

In 1995, my mom finally crossed the finish line in Kona in 13:15:32 for more people than herself. I was five at the time, and while my memory wasn’t the most reliable and I might be slightly biased, I still remember her smile being the biggest as she crossed the storied line with her hands over her head as if she won the race outright. It was a welcoming sight after seeing countless finishers collapsing across the line into the waiting hands of volunteers with wheelchairs. Her smile was HUGE! And I will never forget the pretty Hawaiian girl handing me the lei to put around her neck. This feat was a group effort for sure.

Rachel, Taner, and Gretchen at the Ironman in 1995

Following in my mom’s footsteps, I started running in college too. I was always one of the better runners on my field hockey team in high school, but it was during college that I started to appreciate the sport for its own therapeutic power. It was a chance for me to spend some time by myself; a precious commodity when living in a sorority house.

When I was 19, I decided I wanted to run a marathon before I turned 20. And in typical Kodanaz family fashion, any bucket list item needs a small twist to up the ante. We had already planned a family vacation to Scandinavia and by serendipity the Helsinki Marathon happened to be the same weekend we were going to be there. That summer was the first time my mom and I started running together, and it was a bit of a rocky start. Perhaps I was overwhelmed by the looming 26 miles or maybe I was insecure by her admirable endurance, but as always she was patient. She coached me through each long run with a mix of cheerleading and tough love, once rightfully leaving me trudging along in tears 50 yards behind her after a breakdown on a 20-mile run.

The Helsinki Marathon was my first, and I am delighted to say that I drank the Kool-Aid during that run, even after the effects of sightseeing and drinking our way through Scandinavia leading up to race day had made their mark on my aching feet. At kilometer 35, when the ‘wall’ had more than announced its presence, I was exhausted and determined and exhilarated.

The Disney Princess Half Marathon in Orlando.
We were 2^nd place
in the mother-daughter team division!

Since then my mom and I have run many races together in every distance: the Disney Princess Half Marathon as a mother-daughter team where she paced me to my first sub-1:50 half marathon, the Great Wall of ChinaMarathon where I learned the hard way the difference between mental and physical strength, and the 2013 More/Fitness Half on the 21^st anniversary of Rod’s passing. And now that I am stronger and over my initial insecurities, it is safe to say that she is my best (and favorite—sorry guys!) running buddy. Even with the distance we seem to be stride for stride on both the strong days and the ‘waddle days’ as we like to call them. We feed off of each other’s energy like I have never experienced with anyone else. As my dad often jokes, the umbilical cord is definitely still attached.

Rachel and Gretchen at the Bronx 10-Miler

And this energy extends beyond the pavement. It is her guidance and strength to persevere that gets me through the big life moments (e.g., moving to the city), and the small (e.g., making it through the Harlem Hills).  I am (and will be) forever grateful that I get to share the joys and pains of running (and pretty much everything else) with such an inspiring wing woman. I am also forever indebted to running for giving my family life over and over again. And from all the miles I have witnessed and run myself, I know that each step forward will only bring me that much closer to a goal, a start line, a finish line, a life, a love, a continued happiness.

We look forward to kicking butt in the streets of NYC on November 2!

-Gretchen K