Dedicated to “Coyote” plus one
I am, by all accounts a mentor and teacher. When “bad stuff” (*sxxx*) happens I’m the glass half-full kind of girl. Most of my friends know they can count on me to see the good in any, if not all, circumstances. But every once in a while even a glass-half-full gal can find herself in a tough spot.
This summer was mine.
Without going into the circumstances, because really, that it is another’s story to tell. Let me just call it the “big awful.”
Before the “big awful” this year was looking and feeling pretty darn good. At the age of 40+ (7 years, if you’re counting) life had become more balanced. I began to think that’s what age had brought me, a little gift of wisdom, cultivated after some ups and downs in life. I had entered the age of post-menopausal womanhood a wee bit wiser, a wee bit more grateful and a whole lot “more.” More happiness. More joy. More sure of my many flaws and myself. More awareness of these shortcomings and the acknowledgement that the aforementioned are surely not fatal. I was more assured of choices I made. More sure of the path I wanted to take for the next leg of my life’s journey.
My children were doing well and I felt I had a strong relationship with each of them. My “job” was going well. I was speaking at different venues throughout San Ramon valley and sharing about the hidden gem where I work, Venture School. It is a unique school setting, one where I have the fortune of seeing young people achieve their dreams. I was traveling. Exploring. I had set some goals physically and achieved them (first marathon, first extensive bike tour without support, half-ironman). I was writing (my blog, the local Patch blog, and more). Relationsip wise, I was in a good spot with someone who was seemingly a good match (intellectually, hobbies, core values, energy, attraction). And I had more goals I had yet to achieve, but the confidence that in time I would.
One of these goals had come months earlier. I was able to secure a spot with the San Francisco NIKE women’s marathon. This race serves as a fundraiser for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Foundation. This holds a special spot in my heart because my father died from Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. It would marry two causes near and dear to me: fitness and raising money for a charitable organization that is meaningful to my family or me.
In short, I was happy.
The “big awful” happened.
I resorted to crisis mode. I retreated from public outings, postings, writing and contact with friends, family and my good match. My job was re-prioritized, as was everything else in my life.
I was dealing with what was happening and that took all of my focus. I was in survival mode.
One.
Moment.
At.
A.
Time.
When the “big awful” occurred I knew somehow some day something good would come from it.
Time passed.
Slowly.
More things and people took a backseat. Running did too.
But after the first few weeks, I knew I needed to run to keep sane. On multiple occasions I would receive my emailed workout and intend to run at the track workout or tempo run with my running buddy. Inevitably I would then have to cancel. That is not my modus operandi. I’d contact my running buddy and he would always cheerfully reply and assure me he’d run with me the next time. He offered me hope and belief in myself by his optimism and constant understanding.
My coach from the Diablo Harriers told me not to worry. He suggested I back out of the marathon, to take care of the “big awful” and to take care of myself.
I chose not to quit.
Because running helped. Even if only a thread barren amount.
Another thing I did do was read. Somehow I came across this online quote about track marks for heroin addicts. Don’t ask how I got to this, I don’t even recall.
“Dear Dr. H,
I was wondering how long these awful track marks will last. The ones on my hands are the most shameful.
Sincerely,
Maria
Dear Maria,
You need to distinguish between tracks and scars. What you have are almost undoubtedly scars. Tracks are made up of needle holes which have coagulated closed. Tracks go away in a week or so if they are not replenished by fresh injections. If you inject into the same area long enough, the skin will become damaged--scarred. This usually happens because when users find a good vein, they use it until they can't anymore.
There are a couple of things that will help--how much is unclear. You might try cocoa butter, aloe vera, or vitamin-E oil or cream. There are more "high tech" creams that are said to remove scars. I have not tried any of these but I am highly skeptical about them.”
My running buddy traveled during this time period frequently so when I did run, it was alone. My coach encouraged me despite my paltry attempts.
I was digging deep within myself to get through the “big awful.” Sometimes it was very difficult.
I continued to run at the local track and think about track marks and scars. I would think about Dr. H’s distinction between them. I came to the conclusion that in life all of us have had track marks, or new problems or circumstances. And all of us have more permanent ones, scars.
The “big awful” created new track marks for me, ones that were deeper and more difficult than I had ever experienced.
When I was in the midst of newly created track marks from the “big awful,” I had a teammate from Forward Motion Race Club experience the worst tragedy possible. That is, John Fulton lost his beautiful son, Will. He was killed in an automobile accident in Orlando, Florida while interning for Disney. His son’s amazing, inspiring life was cut too short for his family, friends, schoolmates, co-workers and more. It was a loss with a far-reaching ripple affect.
During the “big awful” my teammate and friend, Johnny-Man John Fulton, and I exchanged emails. I was able to share with him with complete candor. He had lost his son. We shared our anger and pain.
I was ashamed to share my sadness, worry and more during the “big awful” to Johnny, as his loss was acute. And unfair. And terrible. But I was desperate, and even though it was uncomfortable to do so, I continued to share with John on occasion. What is amazing, in spite of his own family tragedy, Johnny reached out to me.
“….Funny, how during "the moment' our battles and circumstances become bigger than us, then with opportunity for reflection after survival, we become experienced spokespersons. One thing I know for sure, noone on this planet will escape emotional, financial or physical loss or devastation. Not trying to be negative, but with our complicated lives, I really do not know anybody that has not been hit with some form of loss or another. But, if your mind is healthy, loss creates the opportunity for enhanced appreciation. I have lost homes, retirement accounts, dogs, parents and now a child. Today, love and colors are not only HD but inIMAX as well…..”
In a very real sense, John Fulton is like miracle cream to scar tissue. He is a hero. He is a teacher, even in the very worst possible circumstances. He gently reminded me to appreciate life. Even during the “big awful.”
As a result of John’s email and my earlier resolve to learn from this, my runs took on renewed meaning. Alone or with others, I took it all in. Some of my God-loving friends may take issue with this, but running was my church.
My appreciation grew. My joy. My optimism.
I faltered.
I still do.
And yes, I ran the NIKE marathon.
I had a dopey grin the entire 26.2 miles. I was reflecting on the “big awful” with appreciation every step of the way.
I have come to this conclusion: we all have scars. We can learn from them. And when we’re able, we can reflect and share what we’ve learned, helping others and ourselves in the process.
We can appreciate life in IMAX, Johnny Man John Fulton style.
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