The Great Haircut Challenge ended last night at midnight.  Over the last month, it raised $1310 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training.  JoJo, a long-time photographer at 11Alive that spouts wisdom, advice, and humor with ease has said repeatedly through this fundraiser “a woman’s hair is a man’s glory”.  To which I reply: “If a man is depending on my hair for glory, he doesn’t have much going for him, now does he?”

My desktop now includes issues of “Short Hair” and “Short Hair Style Guide” magazines.  I have just a few days to pick out the new do and I AM ABSOLUTELY thrilled.  The change will be drastic.  There will be raised eyebrows and comments.  Not all of them will be good.  I know this because I’ve been a Pixie before.  But this time, I have ammunition I’ve never had before. 

When they ask, “What did you do with your hair?”

I can say, “I cut it all off and raised more than $1300 for cancer research and patient services.  It’s fundraising for the Chicago Marathon in October: my 10th marathon… what did you do with your hair?”  Maybe that definition of Pixie should read “… somewhat mischievous, sarcastic, and/or spunky.”  Yep, that fits. 

Thanks so much to everyone that donated to The Great Haircut Challenge.  We’re still working out details, but it looks like Chesley will do the first “chop” Tuesday or Wednesday around 5:15 AM live on 11Alive.  My long-time hairdresser, Jem, from 313 Salon; will work on cutting it through the show and have it ready for a ta-da! moment by the end of the show.  Details to come….

I’d like to dedicate the final push of this fundraiser to one of my Chicago team mates, Kim Rhame.  She’s part of the Pixie Club, but not by choice.  Kim was diagnosed with Non Hodgkin’s Lymphoma on October 15, 2008.  For six months, she traveled back and forth to Houston, Texas for treatment.

This week, she’ll pack her four kids into the car for a road trip back to Texas.  While her husband and kids are hitting up the tourist locations, she’ll be getting a new scan.  She shared her story with our fall Team in Training runners Saturday with a smile and a shrug. “It could be you.  It could be anybody,” she said.

After our four mile run in the sticky heat last Saturday, I was lusting after Kim’s pixie cut.  She’s a beautiful woman who can pull it off flawlessly.  When I told her so, she shrugged and remembered her long, blonde, pre-cancer hair without an ounce of anger or wistfulness.  She never planned to be a Pixie, but if she’s a member of the club, I want in.

The Great Haircut Challenge Ends June 30^th at midnight.  The fundraising tally is $550 for “Ponytails” (keep the hair); $350 for “Pixies” (cut it off).    To donate on my TNT webpage, click here.

“The Great Hair Cut Challenge” made it onto TV today.  In case you weren’t watching 11Alive at 5:55 AM (and shame on you!), here’s the background: to raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training, people are deciding what I should do with my hair: chop it all off or keep it long.  This wasn’t my idea, but I like it.  We’ve already raised more than $700 for a cause close to my heart, so I say bring it on! 

One of our producers heard about The Great Hair Cut Challenge on Facebook and suggested we talk about it on the morning show.  So, in between my 5:30 and 6:00 live hits, Chesley, Jill, Karyn, and I sat on the anchor desk and talked about it on live TV. 

Chesley threw out an absurd suggestion: “How about you let me cut it?” And I said yes.  Everyone on set, perhaps especially Chesley, was shocked.  

He can chop off my ponytail, and then I’ll have my hairdresser clean it up.  That’s *IF* the donations swing that way.  Right now, the “Keep It” campaign has raised twice as much as the “Chop It”.  BUT, we have 21 days left.  As we gear up for election season, I’m reminded: anything can happen.  Donate and Vote Here.

So, I was a little surprised when an 11Alive live chat inspired me to take a Facebook and Twitter vote on whether I should cut all mine off, and the votes were (almost) unanimously “yes”.  I now know the “no” voters just kept quiet. 

I decided to launch the Great Hair Cut Challenge.  If I can raise $500 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training by the end of June (I’m training to run the Chicago marathon in October), I’ll cut all my hair off. 

But then (like every good story), a very good twist.  One of my TNT teammates said he would pledge $500 to NOT cut off my hair.  Well, that makes things interesting.  So, now, new rules.  You can donate to the “chop your hair” or “keep your hair” camp. (You can make a note when you donate on my secure fundraising website or just send me a note). 

Whichever has the most money by the end of June will decide what happens.  Either way, we’re raising money for a cause close to my heart, which is (obviously) the most important thing.  Otherwise, I would not be blogging about something as insignificant as my hair cut. 

Because I’m not a guy.  I’m really not that attached to my hair. (But I’m glad you are, because I plan on making some money off of you for a good cause!

I need to take a quick minute to bring the men up to speed.  Cutting off all of your hair is no small decision for a woman.  To go from that (see left) to my long locks today took a year and my hairdresser tells me it’s a miracle.  Seriously, she asks, “What are you doing to your hair?!” because it grew so fast.  So you heard it here first, my big secret: Super B Complex vitamins.  Friends with babies told me their hair grew like crazy while on pre-natal vitamins.  Those are expensive and have too much iron, so I went with the super B, and voila.  Magic Hair. 

I posted the picture on Facebook and Twitter and took a vote: Should I chop it off again?  I was a bit surprised by the (almost) unanimous calls to “Chop, chop!”.  And it made me think of Mallory Chandler. 

She’s one of my mentees on the Team in Training Chicago team.  We both ran for the TNT Nashville team.  The Country Music Marathon fell on the exact seven year anniversary of her last day of chemo.  She is a cancer survivor and an amazing woman that continues to inspire me.  Post-chemo she grew her long, wavy locks.  She cut them off last week and raised thousands of dollars.  Pretty amazing (see picture at right).

So, to all of you making the calls to “chop, chop”, here’s the deal: If I can raise $500 by the end of June in my Team in Training fundraising for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, I’ll cut it all off.  Super Short.  Pixie Short. 

Here’s the website to make donations: http://pages.teamintraining.org/ga/chicago10/jwolfe

I’m already $100 towards that goal, so I think it’s doable.  If not, I keep my hair.  Let the bids begin.

Training for a marathon is like a high-wire act.  It’s all about balance.  Train enough to get strong, but not so much to get injured.  It’s also about timing and trying to peak at the right time: race day.  That’s why training schedules are specific.  They don’t say go take a run today; it’s run 10 miles at 60-70%.

My timing and balance are WAYYY off, and I’m not sure what to expect.  I had to pull out of the ING Marathon at the last minute, so now I’m planning for the Country Music Marathon in Nashville on April 24^th.  I’m excited about running a great race in a new city, but first, I have to get there.

I peaked back at the beginning of March, then tapered.  Instead of running the ING marathon, I didn’t run at all for a week and a half.  My first run back, I had to walk part of it, because I was so weak and exhausted.  The Team in Training coaches helped me come up with a plan B, and I’m happy to report my runs this week have been awesome.  My strength is back and I’m feeling great!  I’ll feel even better if I have a good run this Saturday.  It’s 12 miles this week, 16 next week, then 8 taper, and the race.

It wasn’t the original plan, but it’s a good one.  . . hopefully.

Run your race.

Run to run another day.

I kept repeating those quotes over and over again in my head over the last week like a mantra. By now, I was supposed to be basking in the post-marathon glow, instead I’m scrambling to find another marathon.  Instead of trying to break four hours, I’m just hoping to finish.  It’s funny how one night in the ER can change your running plans. 

I’ll gloss over all the details and sum it up like this: I’m OK, it’s no big deal.  But for a while, I was totally sidelined.  And for just a while, I didn’t even care about missing the ING Georgia Marathon.  It was always there, hanging around in the back of my mind.  But it wasn’t until days later, when I came out of a pain-medication-induced haze that I realized the last six months of training was building to a crescendo that would never happen.

Saturday night, I went to the Team in Training celebration dinner.  I admit there was a part of me that didn’t want to go.  That didn’t want to hear everyone talk about their successful marathons while I just nodded and smiled. But I’m so glad I went.    

I was so proud of everyone.  While runners relived the race, water stop by water stop, the non-runner spouses and friends got a glazed look.  I could almost hear their brains working: who cares how many goo gels you ate?  And whether you ate them at mile 9 or 12? It’s almost like this secret language only endurance runners can speak.  Yes, it’s awesome.

Run to run another day.   It looks like that day will be April 24^th.  I’m planning to run the Country Music Marathon in Nashville next month.   So, I’ll get my big event.  Just a month late.

Some hills are just hills, but some are Hills (with a capital “H”).  Johnson Ferry at Columns Drive is definitely a Hill. 

I ran it during my 12 miler, and I was set to face it again for an 18 miler.  Leading up to Saturday’s run, I’d been living on a solid diet of Olympics.  I love the Winter Olympics: bob sledding, biathlon, cross-country skiing, snowboard cross, even curling.  My television never strayed from NBC for those ten days (given NBC’s usual programming line-up, this was a huge change despite my obvious 11Alive loyalties).  So, I entered Saturday inspired and ready to treat Johnson Ferry like that cocky ice skater from Russia—Take that!

By now, you’re thinking: it’s a hill, what’s the big deal?  So it’s time to admit I have a thing about Hills (not the little hills, just the Hills). 

I’m not nervously uncomfortable of them the way I am of revolving doors and garbage disposals.  They just keep beating me.  I can’t run them at the pace I should be.  I fall behind on the hills and catch up with my runner partners at the top, but as the runs get longer it’s getting tougher.  There are lots of things I can do to improve my hill performance next time, but right now, I’m about to start ramping down on my running: no time to start a new strength training plan.

So I just have to gut it out. 

And you know what? I did.  Maybe it was the pocket full of jelly beans I nibbled at the later water stops.  Maybe it was the extra hours of sleep I squeezed into my week.  I’m not saying it was super-fast or that I didn’t fall behind.  But I did it, and I felt good.  So, in my book, that makes it 1-1.

I finished it.  And that’s pretty much the only good thing I can say.

Usually, I run with Team in Training mates, Andrea and Paul.  The funny thing about running partners, you don’t pick them, it just kind of happens.  By the time you build up to eight miles, you know who’s running at your pace and you stick with them.  You spend a big chunk of every Saturday morning chatting, so you get to know them pretty well.  And by well, I mean, you don’t know their last name but you can list at least 20 random facts about them. 

Last Saturday started out like our other long runs, but somewhere around 11 miles, I started falling behind.  No question, I was hurting.  And the thing about bad runs is you have a lot of time to think about what you did wrong. 

So as I trudged up the hill, and analyzed everything from my life in the previous week, I came to one conclusion: your long runs are a measure of your week.  During the week, I get so busy jumping from deadline to deadline, squeezing in mid-week runs, errands, volunteer stuff.  Suddenly, Saturday comes and I can barely remember the week. 

Until I’m all alone running and hurting.  Then, I start to think.

I probably didn’t get enough sleep (but I never do).  Maybe I don’t drink enough liquids or eat enough carbohydrates.  Maybe that Friday night fundraiser wasn’t such a hot idea (but I was home by 9:30, coach!).  Maybe that ear infection is making me feel run down. 

The thing is, at 12 miles, it doesn’t really matter WHY you feel like this, and you just have to do it.  And I did.  Then, I freaked out.  On the inside.

Every long run until now has left me feeling pretty good.  I’ve run marathons and half-marathons, but I’ve never trained really hard and I’ve never set a time goal (sub-4 hours for this ING).  I was feeling good about that goal until the not-so-sweet-16.  Now, not so much. 

There’s only one thing that will calm my nerves:  a decent 18 mile run.  I’m keeping my fingers crossed.