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Welcome to Babe's Bucket List Challenge, where I'm tackling twelve of the thirty things on my bucket list and writing about the experiences...won't you join me?
Remember my dad (from the Word of the Year post)? Dad's joie de vivre was unmatched -- he loved life! Music, surfing, engineering, strong coffee, and family were part of his core. He loved tinkering with ideas and often worked with his grandsons on projects such as building a siege tower, designing and building a chicken coop, and designing and shooting off rockets...plus going fishing. He lived life with an engineer's precision, a surfer's spirit, and a drummer's soul. Even as his health declined, his spirit, sense of humor, and love for ice cream never wavered.
In his honor, this year I have created a bucket list - a compliation of dreams and aspirations - to work from. My husband (who grew up in our town and interned with him as a teen) has also written down a bucket list, and we're going for it! You can download your own Bucket List template at the Word of the Year post.
In his honor, this year I have created a bucket list - a compliation of dreams and aspirations - to work from. My husband (who grew up in our town and interned with him as a teen) has also written down a bucket list, and we're going for it! You can download your own Bucket List template at the Word of the Year post.
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| San Fran - 2010 |
A few things you'd need to know to fully understand why this one isn't your run-of-the-mill "Run a Marathon" task...
- I used to be a marathon runner. Like, a good one. Like, qualified for Boston on the first go-round. I ran all through high school and college, ran six miles the day my son was born (before I had him), and have always loved it.
- The combination of a family predisposition to a degenerative disease, plus an accident, plus about twelve surgeries to try and mitigate the issues, led to my being unable to even walk for a while.
- It's been about ten years and a long row to hoe, both mentally and physically. I've had to learn to reframe some things....like looking at my handicapped parking pass as a 'ticket to a parking spot at Christmas!' (Spoiler -- it actually isn't always...sometimes those spots are full, too.)
Given all of the above, I realized, going into this challenge, that if I could pull it off, it would be the last time I ran a marathon in my life. Degenerative diseases are nothing to sneeze at, and while I feel way too young to be dealing with one, I also know that there are plenty of people who have been dealt a much worse hand in life. However, I was realistic enough to know that pushing my body beyond what it's new self-imposed limits were was probably going to have some consequences.
I also knew that running, particularly distance running, is more of a mental game than a physical one. True, you have to have the ability to put one foot in front of the other -- preferably without falling, as I am prone to do with ever-increasing frequency -- but you have to have the mentality and the ability to psych yourself up, and psych yourself out, when needed, to finish a marathon.
An opportunity presented itself for a family affair - my dad, sister, niece, and aunt were all going to be at the same event - meaning there was a built-in support system. And someone to pick my butt up, safely get me some assistance, and drive me home, should the need arise. (Hey, a girl's got to be practical!)
- I used to be a marathon runner. Like, a good one. Like, qualified for Boston on the first go-round. I ran all through high school and college, ran six miles the day my son was born (before I had him), and have always loved it.
- The combination of a family predisposition to a degenerative disease, plus an accident, plus about twelve surgeries to try and mitigate the issues, led to my being unable to even walk for a while.
- It's been about ten years and a long row to hoe, both mentally and physically. I've had to learn to reframe some things....like looking at my handicapped parking pass as a 'ticket to a parking spot at Christmas!' (Spoiler -- it actually isn't always...sometimes those spots are full, too.)
I had a difficult time training - meaning, I didn't. I would try to go out for a run and continuously trip over my feet. My brain was willing but the nerves were not. Even still, I drove out there the day before the race and stayed with the family. I also changed my goal from marathon to half-marathon. #BecauseRealistic
I'm going to give my dad some personal props here. The next morning at the starting line we sent my niece (little Miss Wins-Them-All) up ahead and he and I started out together. He knew I had completely psyched myself out by this point and just had me jog alongside him in the crowd for the first mile or so, at which point he said he needed to stop for a second and for me to go ahead and he'd catch up quickly......mmm, ok.
In the back of my mind, I was very aware of the mind games that had just been pulled, but it didn't matter. It was what I needed to get started, and we both knew it. I plodded along, with my map-app monitoring my pace and distance, telling myself if I could just get to mile six that I'd be happy with managing half-the distance and would limp along to the finish line.
Somewhere along the way I accidentally turned off the map-app. I kept jogging along thinking, "This is the longest mile ever!" But the race director hadn't denoted every mile section along the route, and when I hit the marker for mile nine and realized that "the longest mile" was actually four miles long, I just kept going for it. After all, I was 2/3 of the way through at this point!
That lasted less than a mile. My brain had used every bit of mental willpower it had to keep going. My feet had already tripped over themselves a few time (and there's nothing like repeatedly falling in front of a bunch of runners...half who look with some combination of pity and disdain as they skirt around you and the other half who sacrifice their own race to help you out...that starts to grate on you. Especially when you still FEEL like a runner, but it's painfully aware you are not.
I spent the last part of the race alternatively jogging and limping until the final 100 meters. After all, I am still a runner at heart. 💓 In probably the last running-sprint of my life, I gave it my all, finding random people in front of me and picking them off one by one until I crossed the line.
Was it my best time? Not even close. Compared to pre-accident me, it was a shameful time. But was it the best I could give? Absolutely. And I finished. In less than two and a half hours, which isn't terrible either. And I got a shiny medal to hang on the wall. Out of all the medals up there, it's the one I'm most proud of, and it was the hardest to achieve.
I might sign up to walk that 5K next year.....after all, why should I let some stupid nerve disease dictate my future? Can I do things exactly the way I want to? No. But I'm not giving up either!
That lasted less than a mile. My brain had used every bit of mental willpower it had to keep going. My feet had already tripped over themselves a few time (and there's nothing like repeatedly falling in front of a bunch of runners...half who look with some combination of pity and disdain as they skirt around you and the other half who sacrifice their own race to help you out...that starts to grate on you. Especially when you still FEEL like a runner, but it's painfully aware you are not.
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