The Reason I'm Still Running....

I initially posted this in April of 2011, days before I ran my first half marathon.  I thought it appropriate to repost today, 4 day before I run my first full marathon.

Never let anyone tell you that you can't do something. 

Jessica

On May 24th, 1991, I was the driver of this vehicle.

I am thankful for every day- EVERY day-because I know how fortunate I am to be alive.

I suppose that a better writer could phrase that more eloquently, but there you have it. I am LUCKY. For some reason, my passenger and I survived that horrific crash. What's even better is that we both chose to live after we survived.

We did not escape uninjured. After leaving the road and hitting a small rockface, the 1982 Ford Escort flipped end for end multiple times. The force of multiple impacts tore the backseat from the floor - it crashed through the back window and was found outside the car. Eventually the seatbelt could no longer restrain me and I was thrown into the back. I suffered serious injuries. I ripped the clutch out with my foot; I bent the steering wheel with my face, breaking my jaw. My esophagus swelled shut, and one lung collapsed. Eventually, with my body so weak, I developed pneumonia. My digestive system went into shock and would not work for days. I was injured and sick, and I fought like crazy to survive.

However, despite incredible care, 20 years later, there are still after effects. I suppose one never fully heals from injuries of that magnitude. I've had several surgeries on my jaw and still suffer from a nasty case of TMJ. It was years before I could chew anything harder than overcooked pasta. It is still difficult to eat many foods. Due to the injuries to my ankle, which were initially overlooked in favour of saving my life, I spent about 10 years on crutches and canes and was finally given a brace to deal with a condition called drop foot. It was presumed I would likely not walk again without some minor form of assistance. It was presumed that because of the injuries to my jaw I might never play flute again, something I was very talented at and loved immensely.

HA!

I still play flute. I still walk with a limp and have reduced sensation in that leg, but I walk on my own. Not only do I walk - I run!

It was not enough for me to just defy the odds and walk unaided--13 years later, I wanted to see if I could run. First a 5km race, then another, and another. I am neither fast, nor am I slow. I am still always secretly amazed that my body has let me continue to run one more race. I have continued to train and on May 1, 2011 I will run my first Half-Marathon.

21.1 km. 13 miles. In one day.

Many people think I am crazy. For others the distance is not that far. It's important to remember that I have run with people that run multiple marathons a year. For some people, 21.1km is merely a fun run, not a challenge (they're the crazy ones, by the way)

But for me? For me, this is overwhelming!

Once, a handful of people who know medecine, but don't know me, decided that the odds were stacked against me. I decided they were wrong. For as long as I can remember I have chosen to believe that my willpower is stronger than "the odds". This doesn't mean that I am not plagued by self-doubt. I wonder if I can do this, I wonder if I should do this. But really, the only way to know for sure is to actually go out and DO IT!

So, in the end I will not be intimidated by this half-marathon, because for me, I have already conquered the real battle. The brace, and the crutches and the cane stay in the closet, readily available - just in case. But I know I won't need them. 20 years ago I could have accepted the fate offered to me by the doctors. I could have gone home and never played flute again, instead of going on to study music and psychology . I could have just accepted the brace and the cane. But always, always, I could see the end goal. The challenges were just part of the journey.

Finishing my first half-marathon? THAT'S the reward. THAT'S what I believe is owed to me.

Its been almost 20 years, and I have decided to collect.

(The friend who was travelling with me? I dont think she's run any half marathons -she says she prefers to sprint!)

A little help, from a little boy.

The kids and I spent the Labour Day weekend with friends while Jordan was working. When we returned home, there wasn't much in the way of food, so we decided to take the kids to a restaurant for dinner so we could all enjoy each other's company.

We are lucky, aren't we, that we can do that?

After an enjoyable meal, we stopped at a nearby convenience store to get some milk for the next morning's breakfast cereal.

Zachary is 9 (and a half, he says) now, and keeps testing out his independance, so he asked if he could go into the store on his own and get the milk.  We were parked directly in front of the store, so we gave him the money and sent him in.

Seated in front of the store was a young man, homeless. Holding a tattered cardboard sign that said "Broke, Homeless & Hungry. Please spare some change. Thank you and God Bless". Oh, my heart.  I hate seeing that. I wondered what his story is.

Some people walked by without a look, some placed some money in the worn and ragged hat that he was using as a collection bowl. He always said a quiet thank you to all those who gave him money.

I watched for a bit, and was planning to give him some money when Zachary came back with the change.

From the back of the van I could hear Corbett trying to read out the sign, but he was struggling a bit, due to the folds in the cardboard. I let him continue, because I wasn't really sure I was ready to delve into that conversation with my 6 year old yet.

Zachary walked out of the store and as he slid open the side door of the van, he saw the man.  He stopped for a bit, then jumped in the van.

"Why doesn't that man have a home?"

There are lots of reasons that someone might not have a home, its complicated buddy.

"He's hungry. He needs food.  Where is he going to get the food from, if he doesn't have a home?"

He's asking people to give him money so that he can buy food

"But he doesn't need money, he needs food."

Well, food costs money.

"I know."

So, Jordan looked at me and I said "Yes, he needs food"

Attached to the convenience store we were at is a Tim Horton's.  Jordan and Zachary got out of the van, walked into the Tim Horton's, and walked out with a large, fresh sandwich. It was that easy.

Zachary went to the man, and handed him the sandwich. At first, the look on his face was shock. 

Then, the biggest smile I have ever seen. "Thank you, young man, Thank you!"

The sign was put aside, his worn hat tucked away beside him.  By the time Zachary and Jordan were back in the van, half the sandwich was gone.
As we backed away, he waved to us, ever so slightly. Jordan and I fought back tears most of hte way home

People can debate how to "deal" with the homeless all they want. How to help them, should we help them. There are enough programs or there aren't enough programs.

But that doesn't matter.

My 9 year old boy, saw a man was hungry, so he brought him food.
He saw an immediate need and he met it. He didn't want someone who was hungry to have to wait until he had enough money to buy food. He wanted him to have it now. So he made it happen.

We can't fix the homeless problem with one person, on one day. But we can sure make a difference in the day of someone. The world needs more of that.  People helping people just because they need it.  No analzying why, or what the ramifications are.  Just helping.

Our kids have seen us help friends who had fallen on hard times.  They have watched us receive help from friends and family when we were expereincing hard times.

That Zachary was able to translate that to helping a person he doesn't even know, makes me so incredibly proud.

Jes