a-running-bean

[a-running-bean]

A Book for Every Week?

Very nearly reached my goal of 52 books read (no audiobooks here!) in 2018. See the books I loved - and didn’t - below. Favorite reads are marked with an asterisk.

Luckiest Girl Alive - Jessica Knoll (mystery/suspense)

*Paul McCartney: The Life - Philip Norman (biography)

Eat and Run - Scott Jurek (memoir/running)

It Was Me All Along - Andie Mitchell (memoir/weight loss)

The Sweet Life in Paris - David Lebovitz (memoir/French food and life)

The Rumor - Elin Hilderbrand (beach read)

The Trouble with Goats and Sheep - Joanna Cannon (mystery/suspense)

Hunger - Roxane Gay (memoir/body image)

The Breakdown - B.A. Paris (mystery/suspense)

The Wedding Date - Jasmine Guillory (romance)

*The Pisces - Melissa Broder (fantasy/fiction)

Hillbilly Elegy - J.D. Vance (memoir/nonfiction/American culture)

Class Mom - Laurie Gelman (mom fiction)

The Power - Naomi Alderman (fantasy/strong female lead/alternate reality)

Mrs. Fletcher - Tom Perrotta (realistic fiction)

The Mars Room - Rachel Kushner (fiction/prison)

When Breath Becomes Air - Paul Kalanithi (memoir/medicine/illness)

I’m Just Happy to Be Here - Janelle Hanchett (memoir/addiction)

Sisters Like Us - Susan Mallery (beach read)

The 57 Bus - Dashka Slater (nonfiction/current events/justice system)

Nothing to Envy - Barbara Demick (nonfiction/North Korea)

Winter Solstice - Elin Hilderbrand (beach read)

The Identicals - Elin Hilderbrand (beach read)

*You Think It, I’ll Say It - Curtis Sittenfeld (fiction/short stories)

The Perfect Nanny - Leila Slimani (mystery/suspense)

Winter Street - Elin Hilderbrand (beach read)

Winter Stroll - Elin Hilderbrand (beach read)

Winter Storms - Elin Hilderbrand (beach read)

Eligible - Curtis Sittenfeld (modern retelling of Pride and Prejudice)

Not That Bad: Dispatches from Rape Culture - Roxane Gay (nonfiction/memoir/rape)

China Rich Girlfriend - Kevin Kwan (fiction/glamour)

*The Woman in Cabin 10 - Ruth Ware (mystery/suspense)

Small Great Things - Jodi Picoult (fiction/courtroom/medicine)

The Immortalists - Chloe Benjamin (fantasy/fiction)

Calypso - David Sedaris (humorous essays)

Behind Closed Doors - B.A. Paris (domestic mystery/suspense)

Convenience Store Woman - Sayaka Murata (honestly just weird)

*From the Corner of the Oval - Beck Dorey Stein (memoir/Obama staffer)

**Reincarnation Blues - Michael Poore (my fav book of the year/fantasy/fiction)

*Vox - Christina Dalcher (fiction/alternate reality/female lead)

*The Death of Mrs. Westaway - Ruth Ware (mystery/suspense)

*The Real Doctor Will See You Shortly - Matt McCarthy (memoir/med school)

The Favorite Sister - Jessica Knoll (fiction/mystery/reality TV)

Everything is Awful - Matt Bellasai (humorous essays/a waste of time)

The Wife Between Us - Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen (mystery/suspense/relationships)

*The Female Persuasion - Meg Wolitzer (realistic fiction/feminist movement)

L’Appart - David Lebovitz (memoir/French home renovation)

The Hate U Give - Angie Thomas (fiction/BLM/current events)

[a-running-bean]

I have this taped to my bathroom mirror. It is a reminder every day that, if I want get to where I want to be, I have to push myself to a place that is uncomfortable. I can’t make progress if I am staying in my comfort zone.

[a-running-bean]

Summertime in the Hudson Valley by Libby Vanderploeg 

This is where I live! Somewhere near the cat in the green blob on the left.

[a-running-bean]

October 13

Today’s story began with a beer and a challenge.

The beer: My friend Ashley was visiting from NYC in July. I took her to my favorite Catskills town, Livingston Manor. We hit up the Catskill Brewery after dinner and I spotted a poster for a local half marathon on the one-year anniversary of our accident. It was decided right then and there that I was going to do it. It sounded perfect. My favorite race distance, my favorite town, and the anniversary of my and Michael’s second chance at life?! Sign me up.

The challenge: Run a half marathon in under 3 hours (an average pace of roughly 13:45 per mile). The race directors had set a time limit of 3 hours for this race -- something I had not previously considered or worried about in the past, due to the simple fact that I never had to. I was more concerned with (a) making it to the end, or (b) setting a new PR, depending on my training. I really didn’t think I could do it.

As soon as I registered for this race, I sent an email to the race directors. I told them our story, about my injuries, and that I was going to participate (despite the “runners only/3 hour limit” directive on their website. I received a response along the lines of “okay, if you run past 3 hours, you will lose course support” and I said “sounds great, I’m still coming.” I knew I would do it and finish, no matter how long it took. I was prepared to arrive at an empty parking lot, no volunteers left to cheer me on, finisher medals long since packed away and taken home.

Fast forward to today. This was to be my 11th half marathon, my second 13.1 in the last three weeks. The last one was... interesting. I walked 90% of it, only attempting to jog at a few points between miles 9 and 12, and I eventually ran the last half mile hand-in-hand with Michael, blinded by tears because I couldn’t believe I was actually able to do this again. We finished that race in about 3 hours and 42 minutes. But today, the pressure was on. The pressure for 3 hours. I wanted that medal, I did NOT want to keep my friends waiting at the finish line, and I wanted to prove to myself and everyone else that I still had it in me.

A brief side note here: I have been unable to train or run regularly since late July. I’ve been suffering from daily, persistent, debilitating pain in my left knee that I suspect is related to some hardware in that area. I am having some screws taken out on October 24th and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that this solves the problem. BUT that means that I did this race with zero preparation other than the last race in late September.

The weather was cold (wind chill of 36ºF) and rainy when we arrived at the start line. We were bused 13 miles away from the finish line and dropped off at Mongaup Pond Campground. I spent the entire bus ride trying to ignore the chatter of racers seated near me and also trying not to whip myself up into a panic attack. I took several deep breaths, closed my eyes, and kind of wished that someone around me would ask if I was okay. As we got closer to the campground, I became more and more convinced that this was a bad idea, that I was woefully underprepared, and that I would do better to ask the bus driver to take me back to my car. I felt a lot like I did back in 2016, waiting at the start line of my first marathon, when I turned to my mom and said, “What am I doing here? I can’t do this!!”

But, just like any other race, the gun went off and we went forward. I placed myself at the back of the pack and told myself I’d try to shuffle along for the first quarter mile. I was pleased to see that there was another lady plodding along at the same pace as myself, as the pack took off and we were left staring at a sea of neon windbreakers. I introduced myself and told her the elevator speech version of my story. And eventually, I passed her at the first mile... having run the entire first mile without stopping to walk. 

It stung a little bit every time one of the volunteers stopped me to ask if I was okay. One guy asked if I was going to make it. Because of my knee pain, my gait is affected, so I look like I’m running on a twisted ankle, limping pretty noticeably. I made sure to smile really big and say, “No, I’m fine -- it’s always like this! Thanks for checking up on me!” After the first three and a half miles of running around in this campground, we were turned loose onto the road out of the park until mile 7. That’s when the fun began.

This course was full of rolling hills, with a net downhill. I decided that I would run the uphills (because, as my former running partner Ryne knows, I love to tackle a good hill) and the downhills (because downhills are just free speed, and I needed all the help I could get) and do whatever felt good in-between. I spent a good 2+ hours trotting along by myself, listening to my favorite playlist that has gotten me through many a race, taking in the scenery, and thinking about what this day means to me. I was alone, other than the occasional volunteer passing me in their car or waiting at a water table. I was DFL (look it up if you don’t know) and I felt a little bad that they started packing up as soon as I passed. But then again, I stayed in front of that 3-hour cutoff pace the entire time, so I really wasn’t keeping them from anything after all.

I had a moment at one point in the middle of the race where I was running down a nice hill, the fields were spread out before me, the blue sky was peeking out behind some giant puffy clouds, and I just started crying at it all. Running gifts me these moments of feeling most alive. I haven’t had one of those moments in a looooong time. It has happened before; I am just bowled over by the good fortune of being alive, the privilege of being able to participate in running, whatever stars aligned to put me right there at that moment. And it brings me to tears every time. This is what I felt in that moment: Maenesia Mathews did NOT kill us; she may have changed my body and made it harder for me to do what I love, but I am ALIVE and I can run in some capacity, and that’s something to be thankful for.

Around mile 8 or 9, the wheels started to come off. I definitely bonked and hit the wall. I spent a lot more time walking during the last four miles. I hit #10 and the last 5K felt like an eternity. But I realized, “I’ve made it this far... I can make it that far.” So I just kept power walking, and shuffling when I felt like I could. Unfortunately there weren’t many big downhills at that point, but I had also banked enough time where I felt I had a decent cushion to allow for walking and still make the cutoff.

After mile 11, I passed a girl who had sat behind me on the bus with her sister. She was walking on the side of the road. I greeted her, thinking she had already finished the race. She mentioned she was waiting for her mom to pick her up. After mile 12, I felt a hand on my shoulder: she had run to catch up with me. I misunderstood her before -- she had decided to give up and had called her mom to come get her off the course. But when she saw me pushing on, and realized she only had a mile left to go, she decided to keep going. We ended up finishing together, hand in hand, total strangers helping each other finish. And then my wonderful friends showed up to have a few beers and celebrate the fact that I’m alive and can do things like half marathons!

My final time was 2:57. I cut nearly an hour off my time from September’s race. The medal now hanging from my rack is probably one of the most hard-fought, well-deserved medals I own. I am so proud of my effort today; I left it all out there and didn’t hold anything back. I didn’t let fear overtake me. I dug into myself to find the power to keep going, even when my hamstrings and glutes and calves felt like rocks and my knee was screaming at me to stop. 

The point of all of this is to highlight the fact that, a year ago today, a distracted/drowsy driver swerved into my lane while I was driving us to work, and caused Michael and I to experience the most traumatic event of my life. She took months away from my job; took away my ability to run for a long time; has caused me indescribable amounts of physical, mental, and emotional pain. But she didn’t take my life and she didn’t take away my fight. I will never forget the details of that day, or the trials over the months that followed. I am most thankful that nothing serious happened to Michael that day, and that he has since been my biggest cheerleader and supporter through every hurdle and speed bump.

A final PSA: PLEASE don’t drive drunk, drowsy or distracted. You think you can record a Snapchat video while you’re driving, or you can respond to a text, but someday it could be you who is responsible for an impact like this accident had on me. You could be responsible for changing someone’s life forever, and not in a good way. It feels like a slap in the face to see my friends and loved ones post videos online that have clearly been recorded while they were driving. Please know that I have no place for you in my life if you do that, and that I do take it personally. You know me and know what I’ve been through -- don’t do that to someone else.

Much love to everyone who thought about me, cheered me on, or congratulated me today. Stay tuned for more adventures next year!

[a-running-bean]

I ran a mile today.

Without walking or stopping. At an 11:01 pace. That is all.

[a-running-bean]

Something I've learned during this recovery process is that *well meaning* old people openly and confidently say really insensitive sh-t on the regular.

[a-running-bean]

The practice of assertiveness means acting. Act as if you are already the healthiest person you can be. Do not wait until you feel better about yourself or until you believe you have what it takes. Act as if you are self-actualised and your beliefs will follow suit. Act while you fear rather than waiting until you feel unafraid. “Acting as if” is a form of playfulness. Play successfully combines contrasts and opposites. When we act as if we are already more advanced than we imagine ourselves to be, we are creatively playing with an old, habitual self-image and welcoming a new self that wants to emerge. This new self is encouraged into existence by the image we are displaying when we “act as if.”

David Richo, How to Be an Adult  (via thatkindofwoman)

[a-running-bean]

The worst part about being injured isn’t the injury itself.

The worst part is NOW. It’s when you finally feel normal and healthy and regular... except your lower half won’t keep up. You want to go to the mall, but your legs and foot won’t carry you around on cement floors for 2 hours. You want to swim or lift weights but your knees and ankles aren’t up for the challenge.

It’s having dreams about running that are so real that you wake up and, for a moment, you forget you actually can’t run. Then reality comes back and you wonder if you really will ever be able to run again. It’s smothering and stifling your memories of racing because it’s too painful to think about losing that forever.

It’s going to physical therapy and finding out that parts of you that you always depended on, parts you never even thought about because they were just always THERE and FUNCTIONING, are not doing their job. And now you have to retrain them. And it hurts.

It’s teaching a lifeguard class – your favorite part of your job – and not being able to demonstrate your favorite jump because your ankle doesn’t work like that right now (doesn’t work like that anymore?). And not being able to walk by the fourth day of class because walking barefoot on the pool deck does such a number on your heel and ankle.

It’s being afraid to drive through a traffic light after it’s just turned green, because you’ve seen two people blatantly run red lights since your accident and you’re convinced you’ll get t-boned if you don’t look back and forth seventeen times.

It’s being sweaty and not breathing every time you ride in a car as a passenger because you’re not in control of where the vehicle is going. It’s realizing you’re clenching your jaw (that’s why your teeth hurt) every time an oncoming vehicle drives past you on the road.

It’s wishing you could just take your legs off at night and store them in the closet until morning so the pain would stop and you can actually get a good night’s sleep.

It’s listening to random old people make comments and ask questions they think are helpful or appropriate that just make you second guess yourself and sink deeper into a hole of self hatred.

It’s also reading this list and thinking “wow... at least you’re alive... how ungrateful can you be? want to complain some more?” or listening to yourself talk about your injuries and thinking “shut up already... it’s been 3 months... people are tired of hearing about this.”

[a-running-bean]

Just wanna put this out into the universe. 

Two of these people are related to me. I stumbled upon this tonight and I’m just shocked at the stupidity here. Particularly person #2 (blue), but I already knew they weren’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. “I’ve never been in a serious accident because I’m an extremely cautious driver.” Good for you, dear, and that was true for me as well for the first almost-25 years of my life. Could you please explain to me why I had to spend almost a month in the hospital, even though I too am an “extremely cautious driver?” Can you tell me why my perfect driving record didn’t keep me from breaking both legs and a heel in an accident that WAS NOT MY FAULT? Why didn’t my extreme caution keep the other driver from coming onto my side of a narrow, 2 lane road? Why couldn’t I “very easily avoid” an accident when I was driving myself to work on a regular Friday, no distractions, not speeding, paying attention? I hope you’re luckier than I was and can continue to be unhurt forever, just because you are “extremely cautious.” Unfortunately, that didn’t save my ass, but I guess I’m just an idiot. I’m SURE it will work for you. Good luck. PS - “We never even had car seats when I was young” - yeah f*%k these weak-ass kids today and their need for safe car restraints. Back in my day, we flew out the windshield or died of a broken neck in the backseat and we LIKED IT! Science shmience, safety testing my ass. Who needs em?!

[a-running-bean]

Some days are better than others.

———

Someone made an offhand comment to me the other day, a backhanded compliment.

“You’re walking pretty good now... but looks like you’re still favoring that foot.”

This came from someone who is, for all intents and purposes, basically a stranger to me. I’m sure he meant nothing by it, but it rolled around in my mind for the rest of the day.

I am trying so hard to “pass” as normal. Every time I walk, even if just to the printer or the bathroom, my mind is CHURNING; I am focusing intently on rolling through every step, making my steps even and not walking too fast or too slow. I am trying so hard to look normal and walk normal. But his comment, tossed out so carelessly, was a giant red flag to me. “Hey! You probably think you look fine. Your boyfriend and family are even telling you that your walking looks great. But! If this random person notices your limp... it must be pretty bad. Nice try though.”

I learned about a mental exercise called downward arrow: What does that comment say about ME? We know he didn’t mean it as an antagonistic comment, but what does it mean about me and my recovery? Every time I answer that question, you pose it again in relation to my answer. It proved to be a useful exercise for introspection, one I plan to use again in the future. Also, I decided not to care about what some random dude thinks of my walking.

———

I see people running on the treadmill every day, but I typically look past them as I am usually on my way somewhere. Today, I actually paid attention to a man running on the treadmill as I walked past the fitness center. Remembering what that feels like nearly broke my heart. I wonder if I’ll ever get to do that again. I want to, so badly.

I am trapped inside a body that betrays my wishes every day. It looks more and more normal every day, but my gross motor functioning is not improving. I’m tired of being the car accident survivor, tired of people commenting in a shocked tone about my lack of a walking boot/crutches/etc. I’m tired of talking to people about my accident and honestly I’m tired of answering questions at all. “How are you?” is such a loaded question. I could say “good,” which is a lie most of the time, and I feel uncomfortable lying to people for the sake of polite conversation; or I could list all my aches and pains and grievances, which feels like too much information to give to most people who are asking. “How is your recovery going?” is similar. “Good” pretty much shuts down the conversation, because one word answers tend to do that. Actually, maybe I’ll start using one word answers more often.

I just want to run.

[a-running-bean]

My year in race photos 💗💗💗 1. Portage Winterblast 13.1, February 2. Gazelle Girl 13.1, April 3. Bayshore 26.2, May 4. Run the Bends 50K, June 5. RMC Kalamazoo 13.1, July 6. Seawheeze 13.1, August 7. Ragnar MI, September

[a-running-bean]

Woodward Park, Fresno – 2016

[a-running-bean]

a 2017 recap

When looking back over the year that was 2017, a person could be forgiven for assuming that it might rank up there with some of the worst years in my life. There was turbulence in my personal life after I broke up with my boyfriend of nearly 5 years. I didn’t post any new race PR’s, especially in the half marathon distance (my white whale!). I took two months off of running in the summer and struggled to “get back on the horse” after my 50K. I survived a little car accident that we all know about – that by itself is enough to make 2017 the worst year on record! But surprisingly, I don’t see it that way. It was a great year for many reasons.

I initially met him in 2016, but I got to know my boyfriend in 2017, and we spent a lot of time exploring Kalamazoo together this spring and summer. I could go on and on for pages about how cool and smart and funny and awesome he is! Our relationship has a great origin story that makes me smile whenever I think about those early days. (Who doesn’t love that incredible NEW LOVE feeling?!) I met his wonderful parents and their sweet doggo this year too; I’m so thankful for them and I love spending time with them as well. They played an important role in my hospital experience here in Kalamazoo immediately after the accident. A highlight for the year: I took an amazing week off in March/April with Michael and we visited Sedona; that trip was a game-changer for us as a duo, but was also incredibly soul-refreshing all on its own. We got to spend time with our dear friend Keira, got to see the Grand Canyon for the first time, and did lots of hiking and climbing and general relaxing in a very beautiful place. (Shout out to my amazing grandparents for allowing us to stay at their home while they were away! Our wonderful trip would not have been possible without their generosity.)

I ran some really awesome races this year. My finish times were mostly not great, but the experiences themselves were amazing and I love looking back on them. My running goals are set annually via my New Year’s Resolution, so this year’s goal was to run “nothing shorter than a half marathon.” I tasted the distance bug in 2016 and decided to challenge myself in that aspect of running this year.

February brought the Winterblast 13.1 in Portage, a fun and fast little winter race right in our community that was absolutely freezing cold after a week of temps on the warmer end of things. It was a beautiful day and I ran my heart out after having trained for only six weeks or so, ending with a 2:01. That was the first race Michael attended as my cheer squad, which made the stakes extra high ;)

April was Gazelle Girl 13.1, which I ran for free as a Gazelle Sports Activator. Not my favorite race, but I’m happy to run it and represent GS anytime. This was the closest I came to a PR this year (2’00”). If I hadn’t had to make two (TWO?!) bathroom stops, I probably would have beaten my all-time half marathon PR (1:56, 2015). So close and yet so far. This was the race where my mantras centered around pain: pain is weakness leaving the body, pain means you’re getting stronger, embrace the pain, etc. That really helped me pull through at miles 10-13.

May is Bayshore Month - obviously - my favorite marathon! This year’s Bayshore brought my first-ever black toenails, which are STILL hanging on as I type this. Gonna see how long I can keep those around. My finish time was abysmal, even worse than last year, but at that distance I don’t worry too much about the end result. I’m just proud to make it through till the end and I try to have as much fun along the way as I can. The best part of Bayshore 2017 was seeing Michael around mile 7; he was running the half, so I knew I’d pass him before too long. Scanning the oncoming runners for his face kept me occupied for a few miles, which was nice. We spotted each other and shared a big kiss in the middle of the road, which was everything I dreamed it would be. The guys I was running with got a kick out of it and asked if they could have a kiss from him too 😂

June was the big one... my first ultramarathon!!!! I had been wanting to run one since 2015 or 2016 and decided that 2017 would be my 50K year. It was an incredible experience that I’d do again in a heartbeat. It was also the most physically and mentally challenging thing I’ve ever done. Spending 8.5 hours trotting through the woods on your own gives you a lot of time for soul searching and introspection. I’ve never felt stronger or more capable of doing anything in my life. The sense of accomplishment was absolutely enormous. Just like my first marathon, as soon as I was done with my 50K, I knew that wouldn’t be my last ultra. I immediately decided that a 50 miler was within reach for 2018. Those plans are now derailed by the accident, but I am only pushing it back to 2019!

In July I ran another 13.1 in Kzoo, put on by Run Michigan Cheap on the Kal-Haven Trail. If you haven’t heard of RMC, check them out: they do bare-bones events all over the state, all season long. You can’t beat the price for a great training opportunity or quick last-minute race. That was my first time running on the Kal-Haven Trail and I quickly fell in love with it! My finish time was poor (this was about 4-6 weeks after my 50K and I hadn’t been running a lot) but I had a fun time. It was also my first race in my Altra Escalantes – two thumbs up!!!!

August is Seawheeze Month, yippe ki yay! I made my third annual pilgrimage to the Great White North with my big sis Meghan to run Lululemon’s flagship race in Vancouver. She and I focused on being in the moment and enjoying the sights and sounds of the race. When you travel that far for a race and don’t have a chance at setting a personal best, why beat yourself up about it?! I wanted to soak every detail in, instead of putting on the blinders and missing out on the whole experience. It is an absolute riot, they do an amazing job of organizing it and throwing a huge party all weekend long. Despite my injuries, I am still planning to register for 2018. Michael wants to run it with us this year, and it would be great to have that be my first “real” race back in the saddle.

September was my last race of the year, due to my accident. I signed up for Ragnar MI on a whim in July and it was held the last Friday and Saturday of the month. Running 200-ish miles over the course of two days sounds pretty badass – and it was. I was very out of shape after taking the summer off, but I had three gorgeous/fun segments AND I got the bonus medal for running the hardest leg of the entire relay. Who wouldn’t enjoy a weekend of running through northern Michigan in late summer?! At the time, I didn’t love the experience as a whole, but looking back on it, it was pretty freakin awesome. I would love to do it again in a year or two, but I would definitely choose my own team instead of joining a team of strangers.

As we all know, October brought its own set of challenges. I had a half planned for the 15th and our accident was on the 13th. As Michael says, this is the longest and hardest race I’ll ever run... No race lasts 6 months or a year... But this one does. I am still grappling with a lot of challenges related to my injuries, mostly mental, but overall I hope to emerge from this trial with my head held high, stronger and better than I was before. My goal for 2018 is to try to start running in April, if not sooner. That is the 6 month mark for the accident, and my fractures will be considered completely healed by then. Plus the snow will (hopefully!) be gone and I can start getting outside again. This accident has brought forth a host of issues that I never would have imagined. I am working on myself every single day – all I want is to get stronger and closer to being “normal.” I have to remember that this is “normal” for me right now – but at the same time, I want to challenge that, and push back at it, and reshape it to fit my goals and desires. As for that 50 miler I had planned for June 2018? I WILL complete it in 2019. Keep your fingers crossed that the race is held again in a year and you can see me there!

I am excited to see what 2018 brings for me in terms of physical progress. I am hoping to explore other avenues of physical activity as I creep back towards the running world. Stay tuned for more!

[a-running-bean]

the good parts

- My parents. They have played a huge role in my recovery. I am SO lucky to have parents who live pretty close to where I do (about an hour away) and are willing to drive me home so I can spend the weekend with Michael. I am also so lucky that they are willing to let me hang out at their home for weeks at a time, and actually LIKE having me around this much! They cook for me, they let me mess up their entire house with all of my stuff, and they don’t seem to mind at all. My dad is the sweetest and sets out a coffee station, breakfast station and lunch station for me every day. The first day I came downstairs and saw all that he had set up, it made me want to cry a little bit. He and I have spent a lot of time together since I’ve been home and I have really enjoyed it. My mom dropped everything and spent a lot of time staying with me when I was first hospitalized. She put a lot of work on the back burner to be with me and I really appreciate that. Thanks Mom and Dad!!!!!!!

- My boyfriend. Michael is like a shining star in the boring bleakness of every day. I look forward to talking with him on the phone at the end of every day, and I LOVE spending any time that I can with him. The times he would come and stay with me at the hospital were the best of all. And now that I am strong enough to climb 3 flights of stairs, I can spend the weekend at my own home with him, which is EVEN BETTER!!! Moving in with him was the best choice I’ve ever made. I’ll never replicate the feeling of pure, absolutely unadulterated happiness that I felt the morning we woke up on our first day in the apartment... but every other day that we live there together is pretty darn close. Michael is my cheerleader, my coach, my best friend, my partner, my other half. He pushes me, lifts me up, brings me back down to earth, completes me, calms me down and makes me laugh. I am so so so glad that he wasn’t seriously injured in our accident. (I still have some driver guilt over the fact that he got hurt or was involved in it at all, even though the accident wasn’t my fault.) I am thankful for him every single day. Michael, if you’re reading this, I love you.

- My friends and family. Friends from all different parts of my life have reached out to me with words of encouragement. People I haven’t seen or spoken to in years have told me they’re thinking about me. It may not seem like much, but even just hearing from someone that they hope I have a speedy recovery makes me feel a little better, like a tiny chip from a broken coffee cup has been put back into place. My extended family has been wonderful as well, sending me flowers, gifts, and cards; visiting me in the hospital and bringing snacks; calling to check in on me... I am so lucky to be a part of this network.

- My Oiselle flock. I can’t put into words my gratitude for the things my team has done for me during this recovery process. For those of you who aren’t familiar, Oiselle is a women’s running apparel company based in Seattle... but to me and many others, it is SO MUCH MORE. The company hosts a racing team called the Oiselle Volée, made up of women from any state or country, at any experience level or speed. We are all over the map, both geographically and figuratively. And boy, how my Oiselle fam has come through for me in this crazy time. I have been showered with gifts and love by sisters from all over the world. The Nest (what we call HQ) sent me a care package chock full of O gear; Sally (our Head Bird, the founder of Oiselle) sent me a top to replace the one that was cut off in my accident and some gorgeous sweatpants; an Amazon gift card from the Indiana team; an amazing care package sent all the way from Europe; and my Michigan team... holy moly... they have gone above and beyond. Birthday flowers, a Halloween Edible Arrangement, a gorgeous necklace that I haven’t taken off since I opened it, gift cards... I could never fully express my gratitude for the generosity that the Volée has shown me. Thank you, sister birds. You have lifted my spirits time and time again.

I’m sure I have forgotten someone, or a few someones... just know that your kind gesture did not go unnoticed. I promise that your kindness lifted me up. Thank you. 

[a-running-bean]

 ( ⬆️  How I really feel 50% of the time...) 

The process of returning from this accident is not all big gains and smiles and pride and progress. People have frequently commented and congratulated me on my positive attitude, which I have really tried to keep up, both in person and online. But it’s not always there, especially now that I spend most of my days rotting on the couch, napping, and staring at my phone screen. I hesitated to share the raw feelings in this post because I didn’t want to crack that façade of smiles and good attitudes. I didn’t want people to stop thinking of me as someone who’s gone through a traumatic experience but is somehow super cheerful and positive about all of it. The truth is that I am not always cheerful and positive about it. A lot of this journey involves pain and frustration and sadness and worry and anger. 

It is very easy to maintain a positive front and only share the good parts of my recovery process on social media. "Yay I did this big thing today!" is more fun to share with friends and family than "I'm sad and bored and hurting." Part of me doesn't want to complain, part of me knows I should be thankful to be alive (and I am... do not misunderstand me), but part of me also has to grieve and recognize that this is a very hard process and a very crappy situation. There are many times during the day when I'm sitting in my wheelchair and I want to hop up, walk over and grab something that’s 5 feet away, because I forget that I can't do that. Getting off my bed or the couch to go get a glass of water or reach for a phone charger requires strength, coordination, advance planning, and often way too much work than it’s actually worth. Once every few days, I am brought to tears by anger at the person responsible for my injuries. I could talk about that all day. And most of the times that I speak with my surgeons, doctors or therapists, they remind me that it is unlikely that I'll ever run long distances again. That’s what this post is really about.

The thing I’ve been mourning the most throughout all of this is the loss of running, no matter whether that loss is temporary or permanent. This may seem like a dramatic example to some, but it feels like running was a partner that I met almost four years ago, fell truly-madly-deeply in love with, spent every day with for years, and then that partner was unexpectedly and suddenly ripped away from me. Gone. Completely and totally. And I’m being told that, although there is a possibility that my partner miiiiiiight return to me someday (in a different and much less intense relationship), there is a greater possibility that I may never see it again. (I think you might have to be a runner to understand the depths of my sadness when it comes to this topic...) I never imagined that I wouldn’t be able to run. I certainly worried about getting injured; little tweaks and twinges here and there over the years had me resting for a few days or a week. I had the choice to get back out there and run even though it hurt a little bit. But I never truly imagined what it would be like to be completely and totally unable to run, whether I want to get out there or not.

Currently, I am completely and totally unable to run, as I have two mending-but-broken legs and a broken heel on which I cannot bear weight. In the near future, I will get my walking boot, leave my weight-bearing restrictions behind, and learn to walk on two legs again. Eventually, I’ll be at the point where I can TRY to run, but that’s where the road comes to a fork. On one side, I could return to normal running as I remember it, gritting my teeth and pushing through any pain that might show up as a result of my heel injury, running the speeds and distances I once ran — after weeks and months and years of hard work to return to that point. My PT recently told me that it’s up to me to decide how important running is, that I can choose to push through the pain if I really want to run. On the other side, the pain in my heel and foot and ankle may be so great that I have to give up running entirely. I guess there is a third option too: that I might heal perfectly and would be able to run without pain.

My psychologist at MFB told me that anxiety comes from humans trying to protect themselves from a possible bad situation. We imagine all the ways something could go wrong and worry about it, in order to try to prevent or prepare for it. But she also suggested that I “worry” about a positive outcome instead, so that I can visualize a good future scenario for myself after all of this is over. I’m not as good at that as I am at worrying about stuff! I daydream about crossing finish lines, pounding down the road sweating and chafing; trotting through the woods on a single track path as the sun filters through the trees... heck, I’ll even daydream about the last hellish 3 miles of my 50K this summer, when I was hot and limping and crying and asking myself why I even thought I wanted to do it. I’ll daydream about the four times I had to make bathroom stops during my marathon in May, because my intestines were waging war on me for some horrible reason. I’d take every bad day, every missed time goal, every freezing cold January training run, instead of this. 

I just want to run. I want it back. I miss it so badly, it’s driving me crazy. When I get back from all of this, my first race will probably be a 5K. (This might be karma from all the times I secretly scoffed at people who were excited about running 5K’s.) But I promise, within a year of being cleared to run, I’m running 50 miles like I originally intended to.

[a-running-bean]

Me: I just want to RUN! I'm getting restless!

Dad: *wistfully* You're like a racehorse that can't run...

Me: If I were a racehorse, they would have shot me by now.

[a-running-bean]

On my last day at Mary Free Bed, with my favorite PT, Kelli.