Notice how I titled it "My First Marathon", as in, yep, I'm pretty sure this waddling duck, with toes that ache, might just do this again! Now where do I start?
I've always been a runner, whether I like it or not. My parents forced me to participate in sports, and pretty much the only one where you didn't get cut, for lack of athleticism, was track and cross country. I can't tell you how much I hated this, HATED it. I proved to my parents over and over just how much I disliked running by continuously dropping out of races. I'll show them! Ha! Really, I was just embarrassing myself, but at the time I was more interested in boys and partying. Oh, high school. After HS I always ran a little as a stress reliever. I have a favorite 4 mile run, that goes from the house I grew up in, up Deer Creek Road, to the pavement and back. I kind of wish I knew how many times I've ran that. Then again, maybe not. I've always dabbled in the running a little.
I guess I'll give you a little background on how I even ended up running 26.2 miles (this is the traditional marathon distance). It all started back in January of 2009, when I took snowboarding lessons up at Snowbowl and the only other person in my group, the "intermediate" level, was Christy. Actually, the only reason she was in intermediate was because I talked her into it the first day, too afraid to take lessons solo for some reason, but she took the bait and we became fast friends. I know you are shocked that I can make a friend so quickly. Turns out Christy was a triathlete, (she forgot to mention that she's an AMAZING triathlete) which was so great because I had an interest in triathlons, and she mentioned the local running group, Run Wild, and told me I should try it. So I did. I'm telling you, I could be talked into doing just about anything, as long as you attach "it's so much fun" to it. I'm addicted to fun, and today I realized that I might just be an "adrenaline junky". Who me? Yep, that's right. Who doesn't like things that are fun and make you feel good? Crazy people, that's who.
That February, I started the marathon training group. The boss man, Anders Brooker, who's in charge of the whole show, has us broken up between marathon and half marathoners. I decided that the marathon was completely out of my league, so I opted for the half. There is a four and a half month running program that you do, you follow a calendar and build up your mileage, it's actually very simple. In the beginning of training the farthest I had ever ran was maybe 7 miles, so the idea of even 13 seemed to be a bit of a stretch, but the running scheduel kept me on track. I finished my first half marathon that June, in a fit of tears because of a whole slew of things that went wrong, but I was determined to do better the next year. And I did.
I decided to be one of the few hundred crazies to run the Snow Joke Half Marathon that following February. With temperatures dropping down below freezing, it's definitely not for the feint of heart. What I love about this race is that I can bring Shelby with me, she is, by far, my most loyal running partner (sorry Lynn, you moved!). My friend Mary and her dog Barley ran it too, but she's fast like a bunny and finished way ahead of me, but it's never really a race where you are competing with anyone, it's more competition with yourself then anything, at least for me. It was a good race and lifted my spirits a little. I was still on the path to finish the Missoula Half Marathon with a smile on my face. Training starts about the same time as the Snow Joke, so in 2010 I was ahead of the game. That June, the half marathon went WAY better. I didn't set a PR (Personal Record) or anything, but I finished without crying, and I felt good about the race.
This is the part where I decide to do something absolutely crazy. My friends and I signed up for the Blue Mountain 30k, which is an 18 mile race up to the top of a mountain in the Blue Mountain trail area. There is an incline of 3600 feet and you drop that much in elevation on your way down. Sound a little intense? It was. We kind of half ass trained and I ended up coming in dead last. If you go to the website, it will say that I came in second, but really, Sam was only back there because she was being a good friend. Mary managed to kick both our asses by over an hour, once again, fast like a little rabbit, that girl. I'm not even bothered that I finished last, because they only allow 100 people in the race. Realistically, if it had been an unlimited amount of entries, maybe I would have been near the back, but I doubt I would have been last. Either way, it was one of the most humbling experiences I've ever had. Everyone should come in last at least once in their life.
So that was October, 2010. Around November, my sister and I decide to start taking the Snow Joke seriously and started to train a little. This year, on the day of the run, late February, the temperatures dropped to 3 below zero in Seeley, where the run was held. I'm not kidding. I can't tell you how many people I've talked to who said it was too cold and that's why they weren't there. Really? That's funny, because they didn't cancel the run, I still did it. I find myself enjoying cold weather runs the best. It's all in the layers and you can always take them off, which is why I like to run with a small backpack, sounds a little weird, I know, but I can carry allot of shit in there, from water, dog treats, a leash, to my yack tracks, gloves, you name it, I've probably carried it in there (running related, people). Another great half marathon. Felt absolutely AMAZING, although my sister just couldn't let me beat her. I was totally ahead too, but in the end, her competitive side came out and she passed me. Shelby at least beat my sister, and I beat Macgyver (my sister's dog), so I wasn't completely defeated.
This was the end of February, also about a month into my divorce. I was really utilizing running as a way to untie the metaphorical knots in my stomach. I can't tell you how many times I would feel like giving up on life and I'd go for a run, instantly feeling better, calmer, like I could make it through this hard point in my life. When I'm having a bad day, if I can conjure up the willpower to run, I always, ALWAYS feel better. Eric actually picked up on this pretty quick & is usually the first one to tell me that I need to go running. lol He's always right.
I figured, with all the running I was already doing, why not train for the full marathon? What's the WORST that could happen? I guess that being said, the worst that could happen is that running could quite possibly take over my life, which it did, for months and months and months, leading up to today. It has been a great tool for me when it comes with coping with my emotions through all the life changing things I've been dealing with, and I will forever be grateful that I found my way back to something that I use to associate pain to... You did something right, mom and dad.
So, today was the big day. I had to go to bed as early as humanly possible last night, which turned out to be 9:30 for me, I had managed to take an accidental nap that afternoon, which left me a little restless at my planned 8 pm bedtime. As usual, it took me probably an hour to fall asleep, only to be rudely awakened by my alarm at 3:45 this morning. I literally jumped out of bed. I don't know if I was excited or if it had just dawned on me that I had left my dog outside all freaking night, but one of those two things woke me right up. Poor Shelby. She didn't look too happy when she wandered in, I'm sure she tried to get my attention for part of the night, but I had my earplugs in and couldn't hear anything. She probably didn't sleep a wink and sat on the deck shaking in fear. She does that, she's only tough when she's indoors, poor baby.
I let Shelbers in, turned on the coffee pot, jumped in the shower to wake up, grabbed my pre-run meal, which is two pieces of toast with half a cup of coffee, and head out the door by 4:05. I know the meal sounds a little lacking, but I seriously cannot eat heavy before a run. Ask my sister, she witnessed me try to quit Bloomsday last year, which is only 8 miles, after eating a full breakfast of eggs, bacon, cheese, hash browns and toast. She might be able to do that, but I cannot, so toast it is, sometimes yogurt or a piece of fruit, that's IT! I stopped at Sam's house to throw some gear in the back of the truck, I had a strategic game plan on how I was going to get through this run, and was on the bus headed to Frenchtown by 4:30.
The race started at 6 am. Just in time to see the Montana summer sun peak over Mount Sentinel, it was a beautiful view, but cold! I started the race with frozen hands, but it warmed up pretty quick. Right off the bat, I had to pee. Really bladder? Did you not go three times when you were waiting to start the race? I didn't stop at the porta potties once, I stopped twice! Boooooo! The lines weren't long, so I doubt it really affected my time, but we will say that it did by a few minutes, just to make me feel better.
And so it began. After the second pee stop, I caught up with the 4:45 pacer dude, where my friend Miranda was. She was smart to stick with a pacer. I've been told several times that that is the best way to "pace yourself" when you are running a marathon for the first time, hence the title "pacer". It was mildly entertaining listening to our pacer, he had some stories to tell, like how his group of friends that he runs with like to travel "Montana style" to races out of state/country and always pack a pair of inflatable sex sheep. Of course these sheep are always with them when they cross every finish line. How this is "Montana", I have no idea, but I kind of think it makes us look like a bunch of rednecks, and maybe we are and I just don't see it that way. My sister, from Compton, told me that I could refer to myself as "gangster" if I wanted, and I think I would prefer that over "redneck hillbilly with a sex sheep". I did joke with the pacer that if I were to carry one of the sheep across the finish line, I'd scream, "I'm a virgin!", of course referring to being a "marathon virgin", get your minds out of the gutter people.
It was good to run with the pacer, and I probably should have stayed there, but around mile 14, after the one and only hill, which was a bit treacherous, it felt good to fly downhill and I got caught up in running a little faster then I should have. I ran with a girl, Kara, that Miranda and I had met, who was running alone. I'm a big fan of finding people to chat with during my run. I don't like the silence and I had planned on not listening to music until at least the last ten miles. My sister showed up on her bike right past Buckhouse Bridge, around mile 16. This is where we made our "gear exchange", I took off my camelbak pack and traded it for a lighter belt that went around my waist, holding a water bottle, my gels and my ipod. I later abandoned the whole belt and carried my water bottle, my back had started hurting, so I figured the less strain on it the better.
The greatest part about Sam showing up, was the shirt she was wearing. It said, "My sister is running a marathon today, what's yours doing?", she had made shirts for my whole family to wear and it nearly brought me to tears, but I kept it together (for once in my life...). She stayed with me for awhile, until she met up with our parents and Shad about a mile and a half down the road. I guess there was a little confusion at this point, after I passed, my mom told my brother to head to the car and the next thing she knew he was in the middle of the runners, following me, and he almost caught up, before my sister called him back out of the race. lol Little did he know he had 8 miles to run if he caught me. The volunteers even handed him water. lol Ahhhh, Shad.
It was mile 20 where it hit me. The pain. In the training we did, the farthest I ran was 20 miles, so I don't know if it was a mental barrier, or maybe I was running too fast, but the pain started to set in, a cramping, shin splint, I want to walk, pain. Somehow I pushed through, one mile at a time. At this point, all I could think about was the orange wedges I would be getting at mile 23. HEAVEN & exactly the sugary energy I needed to get through the rest of the race in one piece. And I got there, to the oranges that is...... and to the finish line eventually. By mile 23, my pace had dropped down significantly and the 445 pacer group eventually passed me, but I finished just a few minutes behind them, happy as a clam to be done. I've done it.
This was a goal I set out to do, and I think it as a metaphor to what my life is becoming. I'm beginning to do the things that make me happy because that's what life is all about. When I overcome each obstacle in my life, I'm becoming more and more the person I want to be. As long as I reach for the sky, my dreams will eventually become reality.
I've already signed up for the Blue Mountain 30k, my friend Mandy wants to make our goal to get done under 4 hours, that's quite the difference from last year. My ultimate goal is to not come in last......
So I'm sitting here trying to figure out why I'm not dead. Why have I been spared? What am I supposed to learn from this and how do I move forward from here?
Talk about being kicked while I'm down. The craziest thing is, I just kicked myself. Hard. It the face. With steal toed boots. I haven't figured out my own mind and why I constantly do things to sabotage my own happiness, but here we go again.
At approximately 11:00 p.m. last night, I officially hit what I've been calling "Rock Bottom". I've been wondering if I had already hit rock bottom, thinking that perhaps I hadn't and maybe something worse was about to come, but never in my life did I think anything like this could happen to me. I mean, really, the past 8 months of my life has been no slumber party. Divorced, turned 30, slowly going broke and the love of my life just happens to be in prison. What else, God? What else do you have for me. What sort of life lessons do I still need to learn before I can move forward and start filling up this metaphorical hole I've created. Let's be serious. It's no hole. It's a fucking trench, it's a crater, it's probably big enough to be filled with water and called a lake.
So, I'm driving home, highly intoxicated might I add. I might as well be honest, it doesn't pay to sugar-coat anything. I was drunk, I was wasted, I was also messing with my ipad while I drove, and speeding. I was also angry, so that probably didn't help, and as I came around the corner of the long dirt road home, I felt pretty care free, as I often do, when I drive home drunk, not worrying about anything, when I lost control on the gravel, started to fishtail, overcorrected, drove off the road, flipping my car, and hitting a tree.
And just like that, my life will be changed forever. It only took a second and suddenly, I'm in this surreal place, hanging what felt to me as upside down, with my music blaring, and with absolutely no idea what had just happened. I couldn't move, but I was fairly certain that I was still alive. Nothing felt broken, I was just "stuck". My hair was pinned between the headrest and the roof of my car. My car hit the tree right above the headrest, somehow missing my head completely, it was a miracle, but I wouldn't realize that until the next day.
So, I'm stuck. I start to panic. I start to cry. I start to wonder just how far off the road I was. Would somebody see me if they drove by or did I drive off in a place that was down in the gulley, where I could be left for dead? I had no one waiting for me at home, no one expecting a call saying I was safe. I had no one. I had no one. I had no one to worry about me. I had to do something about this. Somehow, somewhere I regrouped. I remember telling myself out loud that this was not how it was suppose to be. This is not how I was meant to die. I had not filled my life's purpose yet. This was not how it was going to end. I managed to get my hair loose, which if you ask my mom and sister, I was pulling a ton of loose hair off my head even today. Thank god I have a head full of hair, because you can't even tell. I was certain that I was going to have to pull parts of my scalp off to break free, and at that point, I didn't even care. Bring it. I don't mind having bald spots, as long as I'm not dead. I finally got to a point where I could move my head around, awesome, my neck isn't broken, that's good.
I somehow got myself oriented and turned around, so that I was now standing on the drivers side door, with my head up towards the passenger side. After going back and looking at the car today, I have no idea how I got myself turned around. I felt like it was an eternity, and I was about to re-group and figure out just what my next step would be to break free from this car-turned-death trap, when suddenly I saw a light. There was a man standing outside my window.
Oh, thank god. Thank you sweet baby Jesus.
He asked me if I was okay, and told me he was calling 911. I immediately begged him to call my parents, which he did. It wasn't but a few minutes later that there was an officer, with a hammer, breaking the windshield of my car to get to me. I think all the rescue people (police, emt's, and firefighters) were shocked to find me standing inside my car. Standing, and conscience.
I should be dead.
I didn't remember until I talked to one of the tow truck drivers today and he asked if I recalled the conversation I had had with one of the fire fighters. He had told me that I should be on that show "I shouldn't be alive." I guess I had some smart ass remark when he said that. How is it, that I could still have my sarcastic sense of humor after this terrible event?
The night was no where near being over. I was laid on the stretcher and given a neck brace before being put on the Ambulance. I became irate and started yelling at the EMT. Where were my parents? Why couldn't they ride in the back with me? The ceiling lights of the ambulance were hurting my eyes and I was covering them with my hand, but the EMT wouldn't have it. She kept calling me mam and telling me that if I didn't settle down she was going to have to restrain me. I swear to you, she was making me worse by the way she was treating me, but maybe not.
That's when the F bombs started dropping. F this, F that, F my life, I wish I were F'ing dead, I'm glad to be F'ing alive. F. F. F. F. F. F. What I didn't know at the time, was that there was a 16 year old ride along sitting right next to me. I hope I scared the crap out of him. I hope he NEVER does the stupid shit that I have done. It will save him allot of pain and grief. Poor Kid. F. F. F.
By midnight I was in a hospital bed. I'd say that was a pretty quick turn around for a drunk driving accident that could have gone terribly, terribly bad (worse, then it already was). I had to stay there for about three hours. I proceeded to get in an argument with the state trooper. He really got in my face and told me that I needed to calm down, and my response was that I was as calm as I could be, considering the traumatic event I just went through. I also told him that I didn't expect any sympathy, I knew what I had done had been wrong, but cut me a f'ing break.
The context of that conversation was probably a little different then that, but that's how I remember it. My mom keeps telling me that things I thought happened a certain way didn't happen that way at all..... I was drunk. Who knows. I do remember at one point, the officer told me that they would have to take me to jail. I asked my dad over and over again if he'd bail me out, and I got no response. Thanks dad. lol. Yeah, I wouldn't have bailed me out either. shit. Thank god it took so long at the hospital, the officer finally had to leave, but by golly, I will get my chance to spend the night in jail. I can't wait. Do I get to wear an orange jumpsuit?
I'm not putting any of this lightly. I'm just completely shocked that I am alive. I'm shocked that I have all my appendages, I'm shocked that I'm not brain dead, I'm shocked that I'm not paralyzed. I am a firm believer that a miracle of some sort happened last night. I was also told by the officer that I was not wearing a seat belt, which I became very argumentative about. I always wear a seatbelt. It was probably the lack of a seatbelt that saved this girls life. I know, right?
Look at the pictures and tell me. Should I have survived? How the HELL did I survive? Why am I deserving to live through this?
The first thing I did when I got home was e-mailed Eric. All I could think about was, what if something way worse had happened. Who would have contacted him? Who would have known how to contact him? What would that have done to him? I'm pretty sure I made him a promise, just this week, that I wouldn't die while he was in there, as long as he didn't die while he was in there. I think that conversation was brought up by the fact than one of the prisoners had a heart attack, and it made him think about how short life was. Coincidence? Maybe.
My sister called me this morning to see if I wanted to go running. I had to tell her what had happened. In my mind we had discussed not calling her because what was the point of worrying her if I was alright? She was very upset that we hadn't called her. I guess she had a sudden stomach ache at around the time I was being hauled in to the hospital, which I can only guess was her sixth sense at work. I felt like throwing up too. I can't imagine what could have happened or how this would have ruined so many peoples lives. Especially my own.
I know in my heart that this experience is going to make me a better person. I could look at the downside of things. I now have a huge hospital bill. I now have a DUI on my record, with court fees and classes to go with it, I now am carless and perhaps without a license. But I'm choosing the other road. I'm not dead. I'm not paralyzed. I'm not brain dead. I don't even have any broken bones. I'm going to do my best to stay on this road. I know it's going to be hard, but I'm learning that without these hardships, what reason would we have to appreciate life when it's good?
And as my friend Andrea pointed out, I now have something to blog about. I think her exact phrase was, "you said you wanted something interesting to happen in your life so you could blog about it, I really don't think this is the right way to go about it."
She's right.
I go to court tomorrow at 1:30. I'll be sure to let you know what happens.
K
