Saturday, January 22, 2011


Photo by Jose Mandojana

The article below features the Run to Remember group that was started by Lisa Hallett and a couple other 1-17 Infantry wives last year. Lisa's husband, CPT John Hallett, was killed in Afghanistan in August 2009. The group runs to honor the fallen soldiers. They are working hard to expand beyond just military spouses. This morning, quite a few new people from the community joined the run. The following article on Lisa was published in Runner's World and was written by a former 1-17 wife and has given Run to Remember great nationwide exposure. If you are interested in purchasing a Run to Remember shirt, please comment on this posting and I'll happily arrange it. Lisa is a remarkable person (and an amazing runner!) and I greatly admire her Run to Remember vision.

MOVING COMFORT
Army wives and widows help each other cope one step at a time.
By Amy Bushatz
Runner's World
PUBLISHED 12/30/2010

It's her mantra: Run for John, run for me, just one more step. For Lisa Hallett, whether solo in a marathon or with her kids in their mammoth, triple-wide jogging stroller during training, running is how she deals with the pain, the loss, and the memory.

"It's really hard to do day-to-day things—taking my kids to preschool and taking care of the house," says Hallett, a 29-year-old full-time mom. "On most days, if nothing else, I can say I ran. On some days all I can do is get to the end of the block and cry. But on other days I hit the ground and I can say, 'I ran 20 miles this morning.'"

Her husband, Capt. John Hallett, and three fellow Army soldiers died in Afghanistan on August 25, 2009, when an improvised explosive device caused their vehicle to flip and burst into flames. With a 3-week-old baby girl, Heidi, and two toddler sons, Jackson and Bryce, suddenly relying on her alone, Hallett found solace in the pavement.

She had run her first marathon in 2002 while John was in one of the Army's most challenging courses, Ranger School. During his absences, runs were a time to daydream about his return. Now they've become a spiritual escape. "There's a lot of conversations with God, there's a lot of sorting," says Hallett, whose marathon PR is 4:05. "I think about being strong for John. I know that's cliche, but I feel like I'm John's physical representation now."

Soon after his death, she laced up and ran with two military wives from John's unit—the 1-17 Infantry Stryker Battalion based in Fort Lewis, Washington. Since then, their group has expanded; nearly two dozen wives and widows meet every Saturday morning. They call themselves Run to Remember, and they've done marathons, with plans to run the Rock 'n' Roll Seattle Marathon in June.

"When I run, it's the only time I let myself connect with my emotions," says Alice Pope, 36, an original member of the group who increased her mileage to deal with the fear that her husband may not make it home alive. "This is the closest I can come to relating to what he's going through. You have to take another step—it's boring, it hurts, it's also exciting."

"While my husband was deployed, the runs were time set aside for me to reflect and pray," says Charlene Lewis, 38, the wife of the chaplain who was serving with the battalion. "We keep each other moving on runs just like we do during deployment—we keep each other going."

Grieving experts say that people sometimes don't know how to relate to someone who has suffered a tragedy. "Running can be an outlet for working through loss, and shared running can bond people," says Joanne M. Steen, coauthor of Military Widow: A Survival Guide.

The women hope that by running and racing while wearing blue shirts with "Run to Remember" on the front and the names of the brigade's fallen soldiers on the back, they'll be a visual reminder of the fallen and those who are still serving.

On a recent damp and cool Pacific Northwest Saturday morning, 20 women gathered to start their weekly run. The ritual is steeped in tradition, like most things in the Army. At 10 a.m., the women formed a circle. Lewis glanced at Hallett before saying, "I'll read the names." She started down the list of men who died in combat or, in one case, committed suicide since August 2009.

"Sgt. Troy Tom, Spc. Jonathan Yanney, Capt. John Hallett," Lewis says. At her husband's name, Hallett fixed her gaze hard into empty space. She was focusing on thoughts of John, the same thing she thinks about when she runs, she says.

It took Lewis another full minute to finish the list of 41 names. Then after short prayer, the women ran off.

For more information, email: runtoremember@teamrwb.org

Monday, January 10, 2011

Not too long ago I was sitting at the colonel's wife's house for a monthly coffee. It was around dinner time and there was a handful of other army wives there. People had gone through the buffet line and were seated around the dining room table chatting with one another. During a lull in the various conversations, the colonel's wife welcomed everybody and began talking about upcoming important dates and events.

It's funny for me to think back 5 years to when I first began going to these FRG meetings. I was a total newbie and relatively low on the military wife spectrum in terms of my husband's rank and responsibilities. Now, 5 deployments and several years later, it's weird to know that I am the position that I once thought was so "formal." The funny part is: it's really not at all formal and somehow, while a lot has happened in 5 years, I still feel like that newbie 29 year-old. Too bad I don't look like her anymore...

I digress. Back to the coffee night.

The colonel's wife kept referring to "the greens," saying things like, "We'll talk to the greens about it and see if they agree." I sat there trying to figure out who these mysterious "greens" were and if I had met them before. Finally, when she paused for questions, I raised my hand, simultaneously asking aloud who the greens were to which she kept referring.

"The greens are our husbands; you know...uniforms...green."

We all started laughing. And there I sat: 5 years as an army wife, just as clueless as when it all began.