Resilience

The finish line for 2014

Today is "the anniversary" I think I've been dreading all year.  And dreading even more so since I committed to returning to Boston.

I keep having two specific flashbacks.  The first was a feeling of vulnerability I had when I encountered a wall of runners at Mile 25.8.  As someone who spends a major portion of her working hours touting preparedness, I suddenly found myself without an ID, phone, credit card, room key or ANYTHING that would get me somewhere or identify who I was, and I was realizing that I was in a life-threatening emergency situation.  I felt naked, exposed, and terrified.

The other is when we were walking back to the hotel.  We decided to get as far away from the center of the city as we could, since any trash can, mail box, and container could explode... so we walked out along the water front.  I looked down Dartmouth Street and saw what I think was the medical tent...as I looked down the street, I was hearing the blaring sirens of multiple ambulances flying by, helicopters overhead, and saw police all over the place.  It was a moment where the world order seemed to fall apart...but I kept trying to convince myself that it wasn't that bad and that the ambulances were just evacuating people from the medical tent as a precaution...not that we were witness to a terrorist attack and people were injured from the explosions my husband told me about.

I felt hollow, weak, exposed, and helpless in the weeks following the race.  I cried a lot, I had frequent nightmares...I kept trying to convince myself that this was all normal - my trainings from work said this is all normal of trauma victims, and that it would go away....but why couldn't it go away faster?  When would it go away?  I wanted to put that date on my calendar.  It was something I wanted to tell myself, "OK Kristiana, we're over this now, let's go back to our regularly scheduled life."

It just wasn't happening.

Resilience is a funny thing - the word itself conjures images of strength, determination, will....like slaying the dragon to stand on top of the mountain - showing that nothing can stand in your way if you only try.  However, resilience is a very romantic concept with an ugly process to achieve it.  For me, finding resilience meant a lot of emotionally difficult training runs, a race where I had an anxiety attack, and the feeling of loneliness...

Then, resilience was a run that wasn't perfect, but it was a focused one...

Then, resilience was the longer run where I could keep my pace, and keep my head clear of negative thoughts...

Resilience was cherishing my training runs instead of forcing myself through them...

And now, resilience is the plane ticket back to Boston, and the racing number that awaits me there.

Resilience is the top of the mountain - the battle to get there will leave scars, but the victory is so sweet.

Today, April 21st, and always...

Running With the Devil

It's amazing how you think you've escaped something, only to be reminded at the least opportune time that this is not the case.

That happened to me in November....and it's taken me this long to be able to talk about it.

Everything was going really well.  It was a terrific day.  My friends were out cheering for me on the course with lewd and hilarious signs.  I had an epic pace, felt good, felt HAPPY to be out racing again.

NOTHING was supposed to go wrong...I was going to finish my race!

Then, the Devil showed up.

I'm not at all religious, but sometimes there are demons that lurk in our souls.  The devil I carry showed up during the Boston Marathon last year.  It's the devil that wanted to take running away from me, the one that keeps nightmares about explosions coming every so often, the one that during a solo long run is shouting in my head, "you don't get to finish" and "PTSD looks like you..."

I'm currently training for Boston, but that Devil kept showing up on my long runs, kept tearing my heart out of my chest, kept derailing me and causing panic attacks.  This is the Devil that stopped me cold in my tracks during my race in November and left me on the side of the road, my heart in my throat, my chest feeling like I was wrapped in a straight jacket, crying uncontrollably, and my head screaming "you can't finish!"

I still can't really talk or think about what happened in Boston without getting teary-eyed, and I truly have no expectations of running a PR at Boston this year.  I JUST committed to going back after months of not knowing if it was the best or worst decision I had ever hatched.  I'm not sure what to make of the whole thing...

Because of what happened last year, I had to take a hard look at running and at myself.  I just recently stopped hiding the fact that for MONTHS I haven't been able to train without emotionally breaking down, and that I have been living through a self-imposed hell every time I went for a long run and would be too emotionally exhausted to leave my house.  I finally admitted that this wasn't something I could conquer alone.  It feels like I unload a nuclear bomb when I tell someone the truth after they ask how training has been, but I'm reminding myself that I have amazing people in my life, and for the most part, the overwhelming response has been, "Of course this is hard, how could you not have been affected?"

I'm finally sharing all of this because I finally had a breakthrough.  The other week, I was on a long run, and before I walked out the door, I spent a lot of time visualizing the course, determining what my physical goals were for each section, what I needed to focus on.  Once out there, I got to a point in my run where I was going to hit a section where I had my meltdown in November....

I stopped, I visualized what that section was going to look like, I started.

I focused on my breathing, I focused on my feet hitting the ground at the rate they needed to so I could stay on pace, I focused on my form, I kept telling myself, "Defy the Doubt"

I felt my mind pull out of itself and focus on my body - I felt the ground as I flew over it, I felt coolness the air against my skin, I felt my lungs fill with delicious, clean air....

Call it whatever you will, but as I finished the section, "Shipping up to Boston" was suddenly playing on my iPod and rain started to come down (I am not kidding).  It was at that moment that I believed that I could do this.  I ran home, hugged my husband fiercely, and cried...yelled...celebrated.

I used to run and let my mind wander wherever it wanted; my runs were my sacred space where I didn't have to take calls, didn't have to deal with emails or even people - it was my opportunity to let my mind wander wherever it wanted.  However, that space was taken from me and replaced with highly negative thoughts and emotions that led to negative physical reactions.

I had to come to the realization that running may never be the same for me.  I may get back to that sacred space one day, but for now, I'm visualizing every run, and when I'm out running, I'm focusing on my body: my pace, my breathing, my form, my stomach...everything.

Sometimes our sacred space is taken from us, but that never means it's not ours to take back.

I'm taking running back…

And in April, I'll be shipping up to Boston…

For the Love of Boston

This might be a very rambling post - I'm still processing what happened.

Mile 25.  My body hurts, but I'm going to make it.  I've been dreaming of these next few moments all day.  I've worked so hard and even though I started the day with a very tight back, I'm going to cross the finish line of the Boston Marathon - a dream come true.  I suddenly see Dave frantically waving on the sideline, screaming at me to stop and come over.  My first thought is, "doesn't he know I'm about to finish? I can't stop now" - but the look on his face tells me something is very, very wrong.

"honey, there was an explosion at the finish"

"an explosion?"

"yes, an explosion, people are hurt.  There's an alternate race ending....."

Then things go blurry and I start running again.  I really don't understand what he just said, so I'm trying to process it.  On the sidelines, people are still cheering, but there are people on the course.  This is the Boston Marathon, why are there people walking the wrong way on the course??  Then I see the looks on their faces.  They're crying.  They look scared, worried, confused...everything you're not supposed to look like after completing the Boston Marathon...and suddenly I ran into a wall of stopped runners.

Then it hit me.  There was an explosion at the finish line.  People were hurt.  They stopped the race.

We can't go to the hotel where the team was supposed to meet - it's at Copley Square where the bombs went off.  I don't know if the rest of my team mates are safe.  I suddenly hear Dave screaming my name again, I've never been so grateful as I was in that moment....

The next moments are a blur - I think I text messaged or tweeted my co-workers to let them know I was safe (I don't remember).  I somehow have Dave's jacket on, and I'm sitting on the street corner sobbing uncontrollably.  I think I realized just how vulnerable I was - I had no phone, no ID, no cash or credit cards...absolutely NOTHING but the clothes on my back and my bib number.  How many times a week do I allow myself to be this vulnerable?  At least three.

But here's the amazing thing that happened - people from the neighborhood came out with buckets of water, bags of oranges, paper bags, and charged cell phones and were walking through the throng of runners to make sure people had water, snacks, a bag to stay warm, and a phone to send a text message to a loved one to let them know they're safe.  I somehow get an orange inserted into my mouth.

It takes us about two hours to walk back to the hotel.  The sound of sirens is constant, helicopters are overhead, ambulances are screaming down the road; I keep trying to tell myself that they're just evacuating the medic tent at the finish line as a precaution.  Then it dawned on me that people may call this a terrorist attack.  Oh my god, we were bystanders during a national terrorist attack.

I've been very up and down since Monday - I get hopeful and hopeless within a few minutes, but here's one thing that has felt constant.  Marathons are events that don't have any political agenda to them.  It's a celebration of will, determination, and strength of the human spirit.  As an athlete, it's an opportunity to bare your soul on the pavement, to show yourself what you're really made of.  To remind one's self that regardless of the hardships we may face in the real world, that we create another world that is just for us, and in that we strive to great heights.

The Boston Marathon is an opportunity for people to volunteer, cheer, run, yell, drink, kiss random girls in Wellesley (I kissed 2), celebrate, BBQ, hand out oranges, and pretty much let your American Spirit rule the day....every runner on the course is important; and being the woman who started in Corral 9 of Wave 3 I can totally vouch for that - I felt like a total badass and rockstar because of the people along the race route.

Because of these things, we cannot let this bastard win.

Regardless of whether or not you're a runner, I'd encourage you to grab an old race shirt, and get outside this weekend for a run, a walk, or whatever it is you want to do.  Don't let "them" win.  We are greater than that.

I know this will be a healing process, I know I'll start to feel better, I know I'll start to sleep again.  I'm going to race in a week and a half and I'll hit the start line wearing my Boston Marathon shirt because...