One Down, Eighty to Go. . .

Two and a half years ago, while working for the airlines late one evening, my feet felt as though they were walking on cut glass that had been shot out of a volcano. I couldn't work anymore. Couldn't lift a bag, could hardly walk. Even going to Sam's Club was excruciating. Mornings were the worst. For two and a half years, Stan has worked on my feet and legs nearly every night, trying to help my body heal from a major case of plantar fasciitis, with accompanying bone spurs and rigid calf muscles. Honestly, I didn't know if I would ever be able to walk again for any length of time without the pain being unbearable. Countless tears, major weight gain, and I felt as though I was facing an insurmountable obstacle, hoping to get well again.

In January I wrote down 81 goals that I had chosen for myself. Maybe I'll share those with you on a future occasion, but for now I'll share this story. Earlier our daughter in law Brittany had asked if anyone wanted to run in a 5K race with her in April 2008. I thought this would be a good time to shoot for being well. So began the effort--a little walking here, a little more walking there. I joined the local athletic club and began teaching water aerobics, which are great for someone in my situation because there is such buoyancy in the water that you can really get a great workout with very little impact. As soon as spring hit, I started walking outside. I got up to two miles, but it was painful! Nevertheless, when the weather permitted (which, face it, in Ohio, wasn't very often!), I walked.

Fast forward to yesterday, Saturday, April 19th. We all gathered for a group photo before the starting horn blew. Brit, Emilie and Caitie ran on ahead. But Matt, bless him, and Della were with me. We walked. We kept walking as group after group passed us. We had started fairly far back because the strollers were supposed to be last. But finally we were the last in the race except for one group behind us. We kept walking. I remembered Heather telling me to just enjoy the scenery and the experience, and that helped me a lot. I focused on the sensations--the incredible rush of the crowd's energy, the loudspeaker playing "Mony, Mony" at high volume as we went through the starting gate. There was a large group of girls from a high school team ahead of us, shouting cheers. That got a little annoying, so I was relieved when they got way ahead of us.

Throughout it all, Matt was beside me, pleasantly carrying on a conversation, feeding Della bits of banana and crackers and water from her sippy cup. I honestly don't think I would have made it without Matt there. He was encouraging without being "rah rah" and he was so fun to talk to. I loved the time we had walking and talking.

We got to the one mile marker and people offered us Gatorade and water. I gladly drank a sip of Gatorade and almost a cup of water. I think by this time the one group behind us was catching up fast! We kept going. . .

It seemed like it was taking forever to get to the two mile marker. For the first time I was beginning to wonder if I could do this. My legs and feet were starting to ache and cramp up. I had wanted to get our picture taken by each marker along the way. Finally, I mentioned to Matt that I was wondering how soon we'd get to Mile 2. He said, "Oh, we passed that a long time ago, Mom. We only have about 6/10 of a mile left." I could have hugged him! What hope filled my heart. I felt a wave of euphoria flood through me. I KNEW I would do this. I knew I COULD do this, and my heart sang.

I asked Matt if we could pick up the pace, and I actually jogged for a few yards, something I haven't done in years. One by one, we passed the groups that had passed us earlier, even the group of high school girls (who by then had stopped shouting cheers). We got ahead of about 25 groups, one at a time.

We reached another batch of onlookers, who were encouraging us. One lady shouted that we only had about 4 blocks to go, and that triggered incredible hope within me. Caitlin and Brittany, who had run on ahead, came back to walk the rest of the way with us. But I wanted to give that last little bit everything I had. And I did! I jogged-walked the rest of the way, tears streaming down my cheeks as I crossed the finish line.
It was a little embarrassing to be so emotional about what for some would seem such a small thing. But for me it represented a major victory, the knowledge that I could get better and could heal and do wonderful physical accomplishments once again. I am crying as I write this blog entry, remembering the amazing feeling of triumph.

Before I flew out here to Utah, Stan said to me, "Honey, you and I are the only ones who know how hard you have worked, how much pain you have suffered with this, and I want you to know that I'll be right there with you, rooting for you all along." I felt his love and encouragement.

Last night I went out to dinner with my sisters and their husbands to celebrate Tom's and David's (same day) birthday. I was so sore and stiff that I could hardly move. But today I'm only a little sore, and I am so grateful for yesterday! Grateful to Brittany for cooking up this particular idea and offering it, grateful to Emilie and Caitlin for being there with me, and most of all to Matt, my dear son, who walked every step of the way with me, who kept me thinking positively, and who would tell you it was no big deal. Matt, it was a big deal for me. I love you and will be forever grateful to you for this, the first of my 81 goals. I love you all! Thank you!

P.S. I just checked the race results: I was #2926 out of 3020 runners. (94 ahead of the last one!) And it took just over an hour. So next year. . .