Brianna Lane

yup yup…last week I broke my ankle.  After getting home from the hospital I knit myself a little “toe hat” with the new yarn that I got for Christmas (thanks Katie! now I have warm toes despite the cast).  The docs’ want to put some hardware in there to make sure it all heals up well and so I’m able to run a marathon again sometime in my life.  Surgery is scheduled for Tuesday and if I’m not in too much pain on Thursday I’ll be playing a full set at 331.   If the pain persists I promise to at least muscle through three new tunes that I’ve been working on.  This is the first of four shows I’ll be doing there this month!

331 Residency!  Every Thursday in January

~ new guests every week ~

Thursday, January 8th with Emily White, David Bruise, and Eliza Blue

Six days in Arizona… ran a 10 mile race in Tempe, learned how to cook authentic Mexican food in Mesa, whitnessed the craziness of Arcosanti, hiked and mountain biked and hiked in Sedona, drank great beer, slept well, took in the sun, and even had the time to see the Grand Canyon- lost my breath at the sight.  Back in freezing cold Minnesota wishing I was back at Red Rocks.

Sunday, Nov. 2nd at the Neighborhood Theater in Charlotte, NC

Boston to Austin opens for Dar Williams!

Last Tuesday, only two days after running the Twin Cities Marathon, I drove away from Minneapolis and into Wisconsin I set the millage counter on my car to zero and watched it turn and tick until it read 26.2 miles. We passed road sign after road sign, corn field after corn field and then I turned to Liz in the passenger seat and said in disbelief, “That’s how far we ran!” Now a week later and we are still astonished at the accomplishment and riding the high wave of empowerment that came from crossing the finish line. I can still conjure up the fantastic array of emotions that I experienced from the entire 4 hour and 27 minute adventure.

I never wanted to run a marathon. Paying $100 to put my body through pain just didn’t seem like a wonderful idea. In fact, it seemed like an all around stupid thing to do. I stood at the start-line in the cold and rain waiting for the gun to sound and listened to people’s conversations around me. I imagine that the silent ones where pros, having completed dozens of marathons. The chatty ones were small groups of friends who all shared a similar sentiment that I did, “it seemed like a good idea when we signed up!” The reasons why we all forked over our hard-earned money to run our asses off were all different and seemed to get pushed to the background as our first-timer fears took over.

Eleven thousand runners stood shoulder to shoulder trying to keep warm as we shuffled to the start line. Take-off! Smiles emerged as we passed by cheering spectators. Before I knew it I was passing by mile marker after mile marker, my smile never leaving my face.

There was a tuba player at mile three that some folks remembered from the year before. We passed bloody mary parties in the lakes neighborhoods and I was jealous. At mile six or seven the rain picked up into a cold downpour. When the thunder sounded I raised my fists to the sky like the other runners and we let out a big excited “WOO” as if to say…bring it on! At mile nine, just before the drummers under the bridge, I snagged a Jolly Rancher from a cheering spectator. That Jolly Rancher lasted me five good miles. After hitting the half-way point I was surprised to be feeling so exhilarated, still smiling even. Miles 15-20 sort of blur together but the funniest part of this stretch was when I realized that I had been running with the same guy for a long time. We didn’t know each other and we didn’t really talk to each other either but we did learn each other’s names, occupations, and hometowns. He had on a bright yellow shirt and must have added hill work-outs to his training because when we got to mile 23 he kept steady on his pace and I dropped back.

My mantras throughout the races consisted of very positive phrases and nonsensical rhythmic sentences to keep me moving. “Kill this Hill” was my favorite to repeat on the up hills although repeating that for an hour (the last six miles of the marathon was up hill) didn’t work out too well. After saying bye to the yellow shirt guy my mantra became, “the faster I run, the sooner I’m done, the faster I run, the sooner I’m done…” The ironic part of that song was that I was running perhaps the slowest I’ve run in ages but just to say “the faster I run, the sooner I’m done” made me feel faster.

There was a woman at mile 23 or so who stood with a huge sign that read, “Remember Your Reasons” and even though I never clearly knew why I signed up for this ridiculously fun adventure, seeing that sign made me think of so many reasons why running 26.2 miles was an amazing idea.

Mile 24…my legs cramped up, my pace slowed, someone offered me a shot of Jager and I jokingly shouted, “meet me at the finish line with that bottle!” I was so cold and tired and near tears. Mile 26… point two miles to go. My face scrunched up, my breathing sounded something like an injured hog in thick mud, tears threatened to come streaming from my eyes and before I knew it…I was done! I immediately thought about the two women who I trained with, Heidi (my partner) and Liz (my best-friend and band mate), and I wanted to celebrate with them. I wanted a beer and a burger but settled immediately on a handful of the best tasting bananas I have ever eaten. With my medal around my neck and a foil blanket around my shoulders I went in search of my friends, my family, and a patch of grass.

I never wanted to run a marathon but I always wanted to feel the level of accomplishment and camaraderie that I felt on October 5th, 2008. I supposed I signed up for the Twin Cities Marathon on a hunch that it would be a great experience. My deeper reasons for following through to the start-line shifted and changed along the way but guided me to the finish-line. No one can ever take this experience away from me.