Someday I May Rest, But Not Yet!: August 2011

Last Sunday a group of runners and supporters got up nice and early in San Fransciso to run. Some ran 13.1 miles, some ran 26.2, and a few even ran 52.4! Below is a note written by one of my friends that ran in the marathon. (She posted it on facebook.)
Be warned that I can't even read half of this without starting to cry. Dianne puts this better than I EVER could. I am blessed to have such wonderful people in my life!

And they gave you a medal?!?! by Dianne Gray
Let it be known. I am NOT a runner. I was on the track team in high school, and my preferred event was laying out on the high jump mat (attempting to get a tan...epic fail) while watching all the guys run.

When I met my husband I was attending the University of South Florida. Still not a runner by nature, I did (however) often find myself sprinting across campus to get to a class that was on the OPPOSITE side from where I had parked. I was going places, both physically and metaphorically. I never had thoughts of getting married and having kids. It was Truly the most foreign concept to me, let alone thoughts of becoming the wife of an Army officer. That was, until I met Eddie. After the first time I found myself close enough to kiss him, I had no other thoughts. He consumed me. I was hooked. This man, and the Army, were my future.

The months before we got married were stressful, to say the least. Septemeber 11th, 2001 was the day he left for his Officers Basic Course (OBC). He was diverted a day, but life would never be the same. Along with the worry of where he would be after OBC, came planning a wedding (which was planned in two months), a college load of 15 credit hours, a full time job at the vet clinic (vet school people! I told you I was going places, People!! But, As we all know, that plan gets put on hold) and being medically put into menapause via a shot in my hind end every month for 6 months; stress was an understatment.

Running had finally taken me as it's victim.

I ran everyday. Sometimes twice a day. Every morning my dad and I would wake before dawn and knock out at least two miles. I get home from work, exhausted, and run another two. Why?!? Because I had to stay awake. I had homework, I had test, research papers, all your typical college stuff with just extra stuff peppered in. It gave me the energy and the clarity I craved.

Fast forward to about 7 months later. I had gotten married, left school after my finals, and moved to Germany. Eddie was NEVER home. No joke. He would go in before the sun came up and come home after it had gone down. Deployment, TDY, and ridiculous hours planning for those things in between, were all we knew. We were broke most of the time, so travel was scarce, and mood swings were many. Running was replaced by food (heavy awesome food) and beer. Ah beer. German beer. 30lbs later, and a pregnancy, running seemed like a distant memory. This old friend who no longer cared and faded, only to surface when I felt insecure. Although, I felt more miserable when my old friend defeated me, instead of embracing me. And that pregnancy I mentioned, let me the Proud owner of about 80lbs extra lbs. I pushed the scales at over 200lbs when I delivered my sweet baby boy.

Running?!?! Please! Who had the time?!

Eddie deployed for a few months, when Jackson was only a month old. After that, we moved to Ft Polk, LA. The land of all things fried (Awesome!!). This place would prove to be heaven and hell all at the same time. I was what some referred to as a "command widow". I will explain what that term means, and the Never use it again. (For in a fews years, that term would take on a whole NEW meaning for me) A command widow is the wife of a company commander. While in command, your husband works ridiculously long hours. Mine, in preparation for a 15 month deployement, took this to a whole new level. There were days when I didn't see Eddie. We rarely talked on the phone, and texting had yet to catch on in the states, let alone in the sticks. I made it through this with amazing friends, who encouaged me to run, but it never became my outlet. Never served a purpose. I'd watch Lisa run, effortlessly in scorching heat, pregnant and pushing a jogging stroller, while looking amazing. While I, pushing just Jackson, looked like a drowning cat. My friends there, however taught me more than about running; they taught me acceptance. To love me. They loved me. We saw each other at some of our worsts, and some of our bests! Running was about bonding, for me, then. A way to exercise and laugh, but struggles were handled with Wine and Bunco :)

Eddie left for a 15 month deployment in July of 2007. (Jackson was 22 months) He returned in October of 2008. Jackson was a 3 year old.

Running became my way of dealing
(and to try to be skinny. Fl offers a lot of pressure to be skinny. For SO many reasons.)

Jackson and I were living in Florida, to be near our families. We had a great little two bed room apartment with views of the Tarpon Canal. It was two miles (round trip) from our apt to the stop sign near the entrance to the apartment complexes. I did that almost everyday. I thought about the heat Eddie was in when I wanted to complain about being hot. I thought about the cold he was in when I wanted to complain about being cold. It was a give and take. Some days I had good runs (like when I'd do the 4 miles roundtrip to John chestnut park) or the the bad runs, like days it took everything in my power to run to end of the block.

When he came home, we moved to Ft Lewis, WA.

Running would never be the same.

We Love(d) Ft Lewis. Jackson was born to live in that state. He craves the outdoors, and there is no better place to live the outdoors than there. We lived in DuPont, and it was the ideal (if they'd just have built a danm grocery store! Lol). Parks, trails, resturants; it is this neatly woven community that is a city. It's awesome. Running started slow. Lisa and I would meet up and do threeish miles, she was pregnant. I was not. And she could have easily kicked my arse. :) But it was fun. It was a great way to talk and feel good all in one. We took it easier as she got farther along and even (dare say!!) walked a few times. But it was always fun.

August 25, 2009, is the day that forever changed running for me.

August 25, 2009 is the day my friend found out her husband, her best friend, the father of her three kids, would never return home. I.....wasn't there. I had caught a flight that very morning, dropped off by Johns dad, to Fl. Eddie seperated from us that day in CO to meet up with some of our friends for a hunting trip, and I was dropping off Jackson so I could head to VA to see Tiffany. My dad came home and found me in hysterics. He called my mom and she came home and took care of Jax. I ran. I ran as far as I could, as fast as I could. I collapsed. I vomited. I ran again. NOTHING made sense. Nothing. How could this man, the husband, father, and Company Commander no longer be on this earth?! (it has long been a myth that officers wives tell themselves. The higher the position, the safer they are. That is in fact a myth. And why I will never use the term I used privously before again)

I don't remember that first run with Lisa in Sept. (Everything from August 25th to about Thanksgiving plays as an old movie reel. Glimpses, traces, thoughts that sometimes seem like reality.) I think it was Lisa, Michelle, and myself. We ran out to the Nisqually river basin near DuPont. Running became about talking, thinking, and feeling the pain a different way. I remember watching her process, both silently and movemently. Knowing that something good, something amazing, was going to come from this. It Had to. And it has.

After those few runs we started meeting every saturday morning. A group of us ran our first half marathon in, Oct 2009, in Portland. It was incredible. I had NEVER thought about running 13.1 miles before, but was now fathoming doing it again?!?! Me?!?! The girl who sun bathed on the high jump mat?! Yes! Me! Lisa gave me that outlet. She gave me those miles to run because I could. To watch her and marvel at the courage she had to keep stepping, breathing, and running.

I remember that first Run to Remember run. I walked. I was pregnant with Delaney (and that's a whole different note) so I walked. I met Erin O'Connor who would become co-founder of this amazing group. These two ladies had something together, and the future of it is incredible.

This past weekend, this non runner ran 13.1 miles again, in one of the toughest marathons. I didn't come in first, second, or third ("And they gave you a medal, mommy?!?! Why?! You lost." thanks Jackson. Lol) but I did finish. I finished because my friend had visited her husband the day before and posted a picture of the stone that marks his spot in a field of many. I saw his name. I saw his face. I heard the names read of 40 others and was taken back to every roll call for those names in the chapel at Ft. Lewis. I cried. And I moved. I moved because I could. I moved because with every breath I took, I took because I could. I wanted everyone to see the names of these soldiers. To ask me their story. To wonder who these men were that fought for them and they never knew! I ran because my friend fought through her pain, her fears, the thoughts, her dreams, and Ran 52.4 miles for Her husband. I watched friends run for their friend(s). I watched people support, honor, and cheer. I watched his brother Chris run in barefoot in honor of John. I watched Tom finish not one, but part of another marathon for his brother. I saw tears, laughter, and joy at the finish line. I saw life being lived for another. I saw Wear Blue:Run to Remember grip the hearts of hundreds, if not thousands, of people. And I can't wait to see it again!

I SO wish I could run! I will again someday and not just wear my blue shirt sitting in the car driving home from the beach.

This post is so long overdue!! I have tons of great pictures to share but I will start out with these and then put a link up to the rest. We went to Ocean Isle Beach the day after the Mission Man triathlon. Mimi, Granddaddy, Kate, Meg, Margaret, Will, Caroline, Eric, and I had a fantastic week! We all agreed that we could not have survived if KAte hadn't been there!! But she really deserves a post dedicated to just her (so I'll get to it soon)!

The first part of the week was not the best beach weather and we frequently had our phones out checking the radar to see when the next batch of storms was coming and then rushing out to play before they arrived. Most of the playing was in some rain those first couple of days.

One of the many beautiful sunsets we saw. My kids had never watched the sun set like that before and really enjoyed it.

One of the things the kids enjoyed was the tidal pools. The tides were perfect while we were there and during most of our best beach time it was low tide. Dad, Kate, and I would dam up the tide pool and then many people would enjoy it for the rest for morning.