What happened in St. George??
After
each marathon I’ve run, I send out an email to friends and family with
details of how it went, so here’s my story.
October
1st, 3:30 a.m., finally, the single beep of my cell phone goes off...now I can
rest easy. I was afraid I wouldn't hear it, and had checked it at 11:59, 12:59,
1:59, 2:59. St.
George being my sixth marathon, the typical premarathon,
restless night was nothing new. I had a
crazy dream of forgetting to eat breakfast:
"How was I going to have the energy? Ohhh?? they
have ham and eggs at the starting line?"
Ten
minutes later, I jump out of bed, RATS, I let myself snooze, dash for the
shower, throw on my clothes, "Do these shorts
make my butt look big? Yep, I think I'll wear the red ones today." Grab my
breakfast, frosted "vanilla creme" miniwheats in a baggie and a protein shake and out the door
I go. JoAnn, a family friend, knowing St. George,
gave me a ride to the park. I get to the park to meet my running group and my
running buddy, Marie, I had met three weeks
earlier. I worried I wouldn't recognize
her (sheesh, we had only spent 4 hours together on a
training run) but there she was. We have the same goal of qualifying for
The bus
ride was an experience in itself, some were nodding
off -- "How could they be sleeping?" Others were talking quietly
about their goals, how long they've been running, how many marathons, their
best, their worst, and then we go over Veyo
Hill. Someone says, "This is
it" and there’s sort of a hush... I'm thinking, "hmmm, this is going to be GREAT!!! I love hills, I love
hills...."
We arrive
at the starting line, it's a little chilly and they have fires going. The lines
aren't long yet for the potties, so we hit those first. We find a fire and
huddle around it until the time comes to strip off the long clothes and head to
the start. There are so many people and the anticipation is building,
excitement is growing and you can feel the energy from each person around you.
Then we're off... about two minutes after the gun. There were hundreds of
people ahead of me. I can only imagine what it looked like behind me. I think
there were over 6,000 runners this year.
One of
the best things about running is watching the sun come up; the quiet of the
morning, the chill, seeing your breath and listening to your feet keep a beat.
Watching life wake up is indescribable. There's not much talking going on, just
enjoying the morning. Before I knew it, we're at the first water stop...
“That was quick.” I'm feeling
great!! This is going to be a fun run. By the time we hit Veyo
hill, my running partner is about 20 feet ahead of me and at the top of the
hill I needed to take a quick pit stop. I knew I wouldn't catch her, but wasn't
feeling bad that today wouldn't be my day to qualify,
it just meant another opportunity to try again. I still could meet a goal of
beating my personal record of 4:10, which is all running really is, continually
outdoing yourself, seeing how fast or how far you can push yourself.
Today the
miles were ticking by quickly. I slid in with another group of people going at
a good pace. In this group there was a more seasoned runner giving advice to a
first-timer. "We lost some time at the start, but will be able to catch it
up on these downhills." There was a mother and
daughter with matching shirts. The joker of the group:
"I smelled that"... as the others around all chirp up "It wasn't
ME!!" I saw a group of women
running in memory of Parker, who passed away at 18 months old, and it brought
tears to my eyes, as did the times I would see a husband cheer on his wife or
vice versa. They'd run over, give their loved one a kiss before dashing down the
road with renewed spirit. Mothers and fathers and children out cheering on each
of their runners was heart warming. I laughed at the
signs, the tree with some toilet paper, "Reserved for runners"... and
there was one very enthusiastic spectator actually standing out in the middle
of the road giving high-fives and yelling as we all ran by "You're amazing,
you're all so amazing and doing so great!" You feed off that energy and it
gives you the inspiration to keep going.
No doubt about it, I was loving the morning.
The weather couldn't have been more perfect, a slight breeze, the sun shining,
the bright blue sky contrasted with the pretty red mountains. Gorgeous!
I came to
the last water stop before we hit town and started to feel a slight ache in my
back. I didn’t feel fatigued, but assumed I had been slouching, "I
need to stand up straight, I'm letting my form
go." The ache started to come around my leg and seemed to travel down my
thigh. So I think again, "I've just been carrying myself a little hunched
over and let the muscle get tight." I stand up and take a big breath and
decide I'll run until I see my family, then walk a
bit, stretch.
I get to
town and first see my sister who is jumping up and down "Here she
comes.... You're doing great!!!" Give her a hug and see JoAnn and Mom, they cheer me on. I’m feeling
good. My son, Preston, is clapping and I
go give him a good sweaty kiss and a treat I had picked up at one of the water
stops and off I go with newfound energy.
"See you at the finish," they say.
I
continued to run for a bit longer and then felt a pinch, “Ouch” in
my back. A few more
strides, “Ouch, Ouch, OUCH!!” I decide it's time to take a
break and walk for a bit. I have less than 3 miles left to go, feeling good otherwise, nothing's hurting but this back thing that's
going on and causing some thigh pain. I try to run again, “Ouch, Ouch,
Ouch -- Well, walking isn't so bad.”
I can walk fairly fast. It's crazy to think now, but I even remember
feeling for one brief second bone on bone and thinking, "I need to hydrate
better… next
water stop, I'll drink the entire glass of water."
I hit the
25-mile marker and there's a timing clock that read 3:46. "I can still
make it in under four hours, even if I run/walk this
last mile." I stop and stretch, sit down even and stretch, get up and
round the corner. I can see the finish line.
"I'm not going to WALK across the finish line," (as if!!) I start to run… one step, two steps,
three steps and that's that, I'm sitting in the street looking at my right leg
that turned to spaghetti and is now outstretched in front of me. I can see it,
but I can't feel it or move it. My world starts to spin and all I can think
about are two things: "Something WAS wrong with my back from the car that
hit me earlier this year and now I'm paralyzed!!" And, of course,
"The finish line is right there, GET up, Get up, damn it, and
finish!!"
The
ambulance arrives and I'm bawling, "I want to finish, I have to finish. Do
you have crutches in there? I feel great, I just can't
feel my leg." They decide I have a
muscle spasm and try to stretch me out, get me to relax. I have a woman telling
me to breath deep, I need to release the energy in my sacrum. And then they sat me up. "Can you get
off the stretcher?" Sure... or not. I start to cry again, "The finish is
just right there, maybe sit me on the sidewalk and I'll schooch
my way down."
One
bystander that had come to my aid asks, "If I act as a crutch, do you
think you can make it to the end?"
"You'll
do that? Heck, yeah, I can make it!!" Then another comes over, "Maybe
it would be better with two."
So off
the stretcher I go with two total strangers, stinkin'
to the high heavens, (poor guys who were merely watching the run) and we walk
literally one foot in front of the other for what I thought was a half mile,
but turns out was just under a mile to the finish line. I'm watching my foot
sort of get caught on the ground occasionally and am wondering, "When is
that finish line going to get here? " At 4:43 the three of us came across the line.
They take
me to the first aid tent and there I lay watching the ambulance take person
after person to the emergency room, dehydration, over-hydration. There were a
lot of sick people in that tent. I felt fine, just had a bum leg, so I was on
the last of the list to get a ride in the ambulance.
My number
came up and I got put on a backboard. That was not comfortable even a little
bit. As we're driving to the hospital, they're putting an IV in and the driver
had to slam on the brake... yep, that didn't feel so great either. I get to the
hospital and I'm feeling like the biggest wimp. I have an MRI
that shows nothing is wrong with my back, which is what I kept focusing on
because how could it be anything else? I'm strong, I feel great. The only thing I could think was that it was
an injury from the accident earlier this summer. After one dose of morphine,
I'm still feeling a little pain. It's now coming up through the bend in my leg,
is the best way I can describe it, and I still can only wiggle my toes. After
dose number two of morphine, my "muscle
spasm" isn't relaxing, the doctor decides to send me for an x-ray. Take one shot and back to my room.
At this
point, I'm wondering where the heck my family went, how long have I been in
here anyway??? I'm such a wimp!!! The doctor comes in and says, "Well,
there's reason for you to be feeling so much pain, you've broken your
hip." WHAT? WHAT THE.... HUH? He's called the surgeon and they're
admitting me to the hospital, I'll have surgery later that day. Well, what seemed like an hour later, I'm getting
dizzy with anesthesia, the nurse is mad at the surgeon because he sort of lit a
fire under his staff... When he said, “We need to move now!” he
meant it!!
As it
turns out, back at probably mile 22, I developed a stress fracture, should have
stopped then (if only I knew), but I kept running and broke straight through
the neck of the femur and now have 4 titanium screws holding it in place. I spent nine lovely days in St. George. Thank
heaven my mom was taking a mini vacation, so I stayed with her.
Over the
past few months I’ve learned how to almost gracefully get around on
crutches, was told to use one crutch for a month, but the doctor made the
mistake of telling me while I was at home I could try to walk from counter to
counter. I was booking it all over the
place. And I’ve now finally been
released for a walk/jog rehab program. I
look a little like Igor, but I’m thrilled to be walking, and my four
little incisions are healing up wonderfully.
Will I run again?
Yes, says the doctor. Will I run another marathon? I don't know.
Part of me still wants that
Jeanette,
October 13, 2005