Victory

I didn't have a goal when I started running last year, but as I went, and as I discovered that this was something I was actually capable of, I decided my goal this summer was a 10K. I got a little discouraged about the whole process during the rehab of my hip and knee, so despite being selected for the TC 10-mile next month, I had been putting off and putting off again the choosing of which 10K to run.  I'd decided on a race right here by my home until my friend Jen posted a link on Facebook, asking if anyone wanted to run this race with her.  A week or so before this, while discussing the 10K decision with my dad, he'd mentioned this very race as one he used to run every year. When I then read her post, I knew my decision was made.

On another note, my brother gifted to me a $25 iTunes gift card a couple months ago, for no apparent reason.  A couple weeks later, he called me with a deal from his workplace. Not only did I get his 60% discount on a new pair of running shoes, he then only asked me to pay him for half of the reduced cost. I sort of wondered what all this was about, but he just smiled and said it had been a good month. He didn't seem to want to say much more about it. (???)

I was at my parents' house yesterday for an early Labor Day celebration, the day before my goal race.  Sitting with my brother in his old room, watching some band footage, we got to talking about my running.  Out of nowhere he says to me (and I paraphrase), "You know, you and Dad are my inspiration - me and my clients. You've lost 140 pounds and that with all your injuries; that's just crazy!  And Dad put off his disease for almost two decades because of his running."  I was so surprised and moved, I didn't know what to say. 

Later,  sitting outside with my dad, we got to talking again about running and races.  Routes, elevations, pacing, splits, parking, sleeping (or lack thereof) the night before, and all else you can imagine.  As I talked about my own experience of running, of aspiring to a half marathon next year, Dad says, "Boy, am I proud of you.  You are carrying on my legacy."  (Black toe nail and all.  Ha!)  I was again at a loss for words; I mean, my dad is a nine-time marathoner, and I'm just running my first 10K.  I haven't even been running for a year, and spent three months of that in PT.  Really?

My new friend Kelly had also decided to run with Jen and I today, and she surprised me with a gift as we waited for our start this morning.  Having read this blog of mine from the beginning (and all since we met 6 weeks ago - thank you, Do Life Movement!), she felt led to give me a dragonfly necklace - and in my very favorite color.  I tried not to cry as I put in on to wear as I ran.

The three of us sent each other off with hugs. Because we each had our own goal for the day, we didn't run together.  Jen cheered for me as she passed me on the way back; I cheered for Kelly as I passed her a few minutes later.  I think it was about halfway through mile 4 that it all started coming together in my head.  I started thinking about my brother and his clients who are just starting their own journeys, just starting to imagine that what they picture might be possible.  I started thinking about the days I used to bike alongside my dad as he trained, watching him run his races as a child, seeing him in a walker now.  I thought about old friends and new friends, including those who couldn't be here today, and how hard they've worked to reach their own goals.  I began to remember lying in a swamp, unable to move.  I remembered not being able to walk, dress, eat, or bathe without help.  I thought about running 6.2 miles: not a marathon, but still a pretty damn long way to run without falling over dead.  I thought about just how much 140 pounds is. I thought about the fact that I finally graduate this year.  At the peak of all these overwhelming thoughts, two little kids and their mom stepped out from the curb to high-five me. 

It's really hard to keep your breathing paced when you're trying not to cry. More so to keep running once you start.

"No.  No!  You will not lose it now.  Amanda Renee, get your act together!"  

And so I made it to the last mile, where Gary and his Charities Challenge group were providing cheers, music, and times.  This is the group that put on my very first race back in April; Gary had celebrated my accomplishments then, and I'd promised to look for him today. I offered a winded, "Hey Gary!" and his face lit up with recognition.  As I kept running, I heard him on the PA behind me, "Hey, it's Miss Laugerman!  She's lost over a hundred pounds..." 

Oh geez.  I hollered, "Thanks Gary," and the group of runners I'd fallen in pace with turned to me with amazed looks and lots of questions:  "That's you?"  "Really?  How'd you do it?"  "How long did it take you?"  Those last few tenths of a mile are the worst, but the effort and pain faded to the background as I talked (ok, panted) about my journey.  Runners are really quite an encouraging group of people.  I'm so sad that my shame and my fear of judgment kept me isolated for so long. 

They called me their hero; so much for trying not to cry.  They asked if I'd shared my story with MDRA, thinking that a lot of people would be encouraged by hearing about me. It turns out that Buddy also survived a car accident - one that very nearly killed him.  He was told, as I was, that he was disabled, never to fathom this, today.  I asked if he'd be my hero in return, and he agreed as we ran it in together (although he ceded the chute to me).  After my banana and water, I walked back up the course, running in a second time with Kelly for her powerful finish. (Dang girl, can you sprint when you put your mind to it!) 

All three of us met our goal today: Jen came in under an hour, I came in with a PR of 1:00:40 (previously 1:03:25), and Kelly beat her goal by 2+ minutes!

Victory girls

I am not the only one providing inspiration today.  Everyone has a story and we're all on a journey; I draw my own inspiration from each and every one of you.   (Buddy & Ron, should you ever read this - that goes for you too.)

Jen hosted an awesome post-race breakfast.  I wore my pretty blue dragonfly all day as I shopped with my mom & sister.  I am sore - stupid hip.  There is still sadness in my heart.  And yet...

Victory seems like the best word ever for today.