My last long meaningful run was September 4, 2016, it was a Sunday, it was the Disneyland Half Marathon. I was so excited training for it and doing it, and I had a Sparkle Athletic skirt that I got for it, I raised money for my favorite charity (Talk About Curing Autism). It's always a thrill to do a RunDisney event, and get treated like cattle and put in our pens at 4 am. All joking aside RunDisney events are magical and I've seen people that couldn't on a great day run 13 feet bust out 13 miles in a Chewbacca costume - for real!
Two Years Ago, two long, life changing, therapeutic growing years. This race was sort of my runner come back, I had lost my mojo, and wasn't all that into it, but I trained and was ready felt strong, and couldn't wait to run.
There is a a whole ritual to participating in a Run Disney event, and going to the Race Expo, and picking up your packet. On this particular race, I was lucky enough to beat the crowds and go on the first day of the Expo, right after I dropped my kids at school, I was able to head over to the Disneyland Hotel and pick up my packet, and then I got this phone call hysterical phone call in the basement of the Disneyland Hotel.
My son was injured at school and rushed to the ER via ambulance. I was 30-45 minutes away from him, and felt like the shittiest mother on earth. My sons life was forever changed, our lives were upside down, and I was struck with a horrible sadness, inadequacy, and feeling of failure and an incredible disappointment in myself and so many that I thought should have had his back. The injury and incident, changed us, me as a mother, us as a family, and traumatically effected my son who is still recovering. But this is something for another post. He is on a good path now and almost fully recovered, so we are grateful for that.
But to race day. It was 3 days post accident, the day after my son was released from the hospital, and I decided with consultations with my husband, that I could leave for 6 hours and run the race.
13 - point - 1 friggin miles of tears. 13.1 miles of PTSD, 13.1 miles that I didn't want to run, I wanted to be with my little one. I wanted to hold him and protect him and the mom guilt kicked my ass for even doing anything like that for myself.
I came home and basically hung up my Hoka One's and went on recovery mode for my kid. I had to learn a whole new injury, syndrome and how to help it recover with an already challenged kid with severe autism. I was just a journey I needed to take, and I don't really have a reason or excuse why I didn't really run anymore. The few times I tried to take a run, my head went to a dark place, so I just went to the gym or my garage and worked out 1 mile from where my child was, and not 30 miles from him. It was weird, I felt like I had a little control of his safety if I was close to him, I can't even explain my shattered feelings and reasons why.
But anyway, my body needs it now, my mind needs it now, and I think my son and husband needs the me that used to run, and like to run, and felt empowered, independent and strong when I run. I ran 10 half marathons. I didn't win them, I didn't even come close, but I finished, and from the fat farm I came from it was quite the damn accomplishment. So I'm gonna add running back into my repertoire. I'm not sure I'm ready for a race, but I think I can see myself doing a Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving, and maybe a half marathon on Super Bowl Sunday.
My son is recovering from a traumatic brain injury, my chubby buns can get out and run. Like I always said my $100 running shoes were the best therapy I ever had. I'm back, I feel it, I need it, I am back. Let's do this!