Lessons Learned

October 29th, 2012: Yesterday, Steve and I participated in a 5K benefit run for MS.  Being close to Halloween, there were many people in costume wandering around.  Before the race started I noticed a girl in 80's style workout gear who looked strikingly like the younger sister of a friend and cross-country teammate from high school.  Maybe that primed me to be thinking of my first races, long before I had any clue that MS would someday affect my mobility, but as the race began the course was like a flashback.  It started on paved road, but quickly veered off onto grassy and sometimes muddy fields.  As it looped around one field and the onto the next, I was reminded of many fall 5K races with the Saranac Lake cross country team.
*cue flashback sound effects*

Sometime during the summer of 1994:  My brother, Luke, had been running cross country for 2 years and was enjoying the sport.  He also saw that while the boys team was small, the girls team was miniscule.  There were only 2 girls on the team, not even close the the minimum of 5 needed to compete as a team.  He knew that I am completely uncoordinated and had no chance of succeeding in most sports, but he thought I could probably run.  My parents had measured out distances on our road and with Luke pushing me, I ran a mile with him.  His encouraging words convinced me that I should give cross country a try, so I joined the team as a modified runner.  Another friend, whose brother ran on the varsity team, decided to join and we started training with the team in August.  

Fall 1995:  Perhaps word got out about the talented (and rather cute) boys team, maybe it was the beginning of a running boom, but the next year 4 more girls joined the team.  Partway into the season, along with several other girls, I switched from running modified (1.5 mile races) to competing at the varsity level.  Finally we had a girls team that could actually compete!  There were exactly 7 of us, just barely a full team!  By some miracle, we made it to the state meet that year along with the boys team.  We didn't stand a chance at doing well at that level of competition, but it was amazing watching the boys team win the State Championship!  

Fall 1999:   By my last year of cross country, the team had grown quite large.  The talent pool was deep and, while I was no longer a scoring member during most meets, I enjoyed training and competing with such a large group of like-minded runners.  The comaraderie of the team was one of the few things I would miss about high school.  

Some of the members of our team have gone on to do great things athletically. Quite a few have competed professionally in various sports, and some have represented the USA in the Olympics (even bringing home the Gold in one case).  While I have neither the talent nor the ambition to achieve that level of athleticism, training with such supportive people and high caliber athletes taught me a few things that I have carried with me:

1: Never give up.  There are bound to be setbacks and disappointments in life.  Learn from them, pick yourself up and keep going.   

2: A positive attitude is an invaluable tool.  Always focus on the positive, the silver lining to bad situations.  By not dwelling on the negative, you are free to enjoy life to the fullest extent possible. 

3:  Stick together.  Surround yourself with positive people who will be there for you when you are at your worst.  Be there for them and they will be there for you.

October 29th, 2012: It turns out that the girl was, in fact, the younger sister of my old friend and teammate.  After the race we reminisced about the old cross country course (she had joined the team the year after I graduated), and our coaches.  Here we both were, many years later, both still running.  I hope, 10 years from now, I'll still be running.

October 13th, 2012: The Hartford Marathon

5:00 a.m. The temperature outside is 32 degrees, the first frost of the season.  The synchronized alarms beep in our bedroom and the guest room where my parents lay sleeping.  We all stumble out of bed and begin the process of getting dressed and ready for race day.  Oatmeal is made, coffee is brewed, and bagels are toasted.  Steve and Dad deliberate over how many layers of clothing will be needed to comfortably ride bikes on the course.  Gloves and hats are dug out of storage, bikes are loaded on the bike rack.  By 6:15 a.m. everyone is dressed and, coffee mugs in hand, we pile into the frost-covered car.

6:45 a.m. Our quick and uneventful drive to Hartford suddenly grinds to a halt.  Somehow none of us thought to consider race traffic delays when planning our timeline for the morning.  According to our GPS it is taking us about 5 minutes to go 1 tenth of a mile.  Mom and I still need to check our bag, Steve and Dad are supposed to arrive to pick up their volunteer gear and instructions by 7.  At this rate there is no way they can make it.  At 7:15 we were close enough for Mom and I to walk to the bag check, so we hop out of the car and walk past the long line of vehicles filled with runners.

7:30 a.m. We check our bags and begin winding through the crowd looking for the port-a-potties when suddenly I can't see Mom anywhere.  How did we get separated so quickly?  This was not how today was supposed to go!  I'm searching the crowd (it feels like Where's Waldo, the marathon edition: Where's Lisa) and climbing up onto a statue I catch sight of her red jacket (so glad she didn't check that!).  She sees me and we proceed, arm in arm to the port-a-potties.

8:00 a.m.  Mom and I, having managed to stay together and find our pace group, decide it's the perfect time to get our first picture of the day together.  Mom has the camera strapped around her waist and she takes it out.  She's about to ask someone to take our picture when she realizes that we never put the batteries in!  So much for documenting the race, we'll just have to rely on the official race photographers.  We are standing and chatting when the crowd starts moving forward.  With so many runners, we can't hear the announcement or gun, but the race has begun.  Suddenly, I am overcome with emotion and begin to cry and hug Mom as the runners stream around us on all sides.  In that moment, all I can think of is how in my worst moments 10 years ago I had envisioned myself in a wheelchair, and here I am on the verge of running my first marathon with my Mom by my side.  6 minutes after the official start, we finally cross the start.

10:00 a.m.  We are about 12 miles into the marathon, almost halfway!  Our pace has held pretty steady around 10 minutes miles, better than our goal.  The cold fall day with clear blue skies is the perfect condition for running.  The weather and our own excitement of running the marathon together spurs us on and, mile after mile, we hang on to our pace.  We are in good spirits and are already plotting how to make the NYC Marathon even better.  Those rainbow animal print knee socks that runner is wearing might just do the trick.  Ooh, that foam shark hat!  It would be hard to lose each other if we wore that!  We definitely need to remember the camera batteries for NYC so we can document it as we go.  Dad bikes by and now that we're warmed up (he's still freezing on his bike) Mom hands off her jacket and the camera (no sense in carrying it with no batteries).  He gives us some GU and pedals ahead.  Shortly after we pass Steve.  He's off his bike and I'm worried that he is hurt.  No, just cold, he tells us as he is pacing and doing jumping jacks to warm up.

Steve and my Dad biked the course as part of the volunteer support crew

11:00 a.m. About 18 miles in and I'm still feeling pretty good.   The aches are there in my feet, but I can easily work through them.  Mom is fading a bit and I hang back a couple times to help her continue.  We are still hanging onto our pace, but it's proving to be a bit more difficult now.

 12:00 p.m.  Mom has gotten her second wind and now it's my turn to fade.  23 miles in and I am hurting.  Anytime the incline changes slightly my left knee gives a sharp pang and feels as if it might give out.  The panic caused by this and the sheer exhaustion I'm feeling right now put me over the edge and I start to have trouble breathing.  It's a flashback to my days of running cross country with exercise induced asthma in high school.  Sucking air and sounding like a train whistle with each breath, Mom convinces me to walk a little bit.  She gives me her shoulder to lean on and with her support I slowly lose the limp and begin to breathe easier.  Over the next 2 miles I have a couple more episodes, but the thought of the finish line being less than a 5K away keeps me going.

Almost to the finish line!

12:24 p.m.  As we pass the 25 mile mark, Mom reminds me of the very first mile we ran together.  I was in middle school and running cross country.  Mom had never been a runner, but wanted to try.  I remember her struggling up a hill with less than half a mile to go.  I was breathing easily and running backwards giving words of encouragement.  Here we are now, running the last mile of our marathon together.  My first, her forty-fifth.  This memory spurs me on and we both find the strength to give that last mile everything we have.

12:34 p.m.  Holding hands and grinning from ear to ear, we cross the finish line.  Official time of 4:28:00.  10 years ago she was typing my papers and helping me walk as I struggled with my first MS symptoms, now we stand together having just completed a marathon.  After a long embrace we walk, still grinning uncontrollably, to collect our medals and get food, massages and beer!  After we have recovered a little bit, Mom reminds me that this was just our last long run before the New York City Marathon.  Not sure yet if I want to keep running marathons, but for now I'm so grateful that my body was cooperative and so excited to run in New York on November 4th!

My Mom and I, exhausted but elated post-race (and post-shower!).

Dedicated To The One(s) I Love

My parents

This is it.  As I write this post, 24 hours from the start of my first marathon, I am overwhelmed with thankfulness for all the support and love that has surrounded me in the past 10 years. 

My brother

I am grateful for my family.  For my parents who gave me the skills to become a strong, independent person.  With their guidance and continued support I have been able to thrive in the face of disability.  For my brother, without whose encouragement I might never have started running. For my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins who have always freely offered their love and support.

My family

My friends

 I am thankful for my friends who have been there to hold me up (literally, at times).  Being able to share my struggles and turn frustration to laughter has provided me with strength and, I believe, has helped me heal.

Grateful doesn't even begin to describe my feelings when I think of Steve, who has been here, by my side, throughout this whole journey.  Our first date was just weeks before my first attack of MS.   He was there for that first visit to the ER.  Months later he patiently listened while I explained through tears that I probably had MS and what that might mean.  He has ridden many miles to raise money for the National MS Society.  He has helped me eat, walk, and inject myself with my medicine. Despite all of the complications that MS has thrown into our relationship, he has stood by me and provided strength, encouragement and humor whenever I have needed it.

The love of my life

The uncertainty of what an MS diagnosis may mean, and the sometimes sudden appearance of disability that can often be invisible to others, can take a toll, both physically and emotionally.  I have been extremely blessed to have such an incredible network of people supporting me every step of the way, but not everyone is so lucky.  Knowing how difficult I have found living with MS to be at times, I can only imagine what a struggle it must be for those who don't have the same level of support.  It is not surprising to me that many people with MS suffer from depression.  Thanks to the incredible people I have in my life, I am able to wake up each morning and face a new day with joy and determination to make the most what life has to offer me.

Thank you for reading my story.  I will continue to write about my journey as I prepare for my next challenge: The New York City Marathon!

If you haven't yet, check out my fund for the National MS Society and help me reach my goal!



*All pictures were taken by the amazing Rae Barnes and her husband Chris.  They donated their skills and did an incredible job photographing our wedding.  Thanks to them we have beautiful documentation of our wedding day!