Last weekend, we divided and conquered as we signed up to be two places at once. I had signed up long ago for a half marathon, the Mayor’s Half, and the Buddy Walk is a big event for my Caprock Key Club and ROTC. I got up and headed to run my third half, and the final one for this year. Rachael got Libby up and dressed and headed to the park to support the Panhandle Down’s Guild. 
I was excited and apprehensive, as I am on any race day. There were pace runners available to help guide and keep us on track for our desired pace. I was able to keep up with the pacer for three solid miles, which are always the hardest for me. Excited that my training was paying off. Well, I tripped and fell at mile three. My right wrist and left knee caught my body weight as I landed hard. Thank goodness I had chosen my full length running pants or my knee cap would have been a bloody mess instead of the little raspberry I’m rocking.
I got up- painfully. I got up and continued. I didn’t know what else to do like so many other times in my life. I kept going. Somewhere around mile eight I saw my friends, Tracey and Jamie Morman, and told them I had fallen long ago. I just needed someone to know that I was trying to make it, and I was injured.
I finished. I finished the full 13 miles. I finished and hobbled to the car. I finished because I don’t know how to quit. When nothing else makes sense; keep going.
Drove to where Mariah lives and showered, then headed to the park where the Buddy Walk was happening. I lost 45:00 after the race trying to get to the car, into the house, showering, back into the car, and to the park. I noticed my knee swelling as soon as I stopped running. Not feeling so good and not moving very quickly.
We stayed at the Walk until it was pack up time and headed to meet the family for my birthday lunch. My knee was getting so big and stiffening.
I am grateful for people who love and care for me. The meal was wonderful and it was great to be able to sit with these people. It was at the restaurant after Rachael had to help me to the bathroom and back that I decided to go to the doctor.
Libby didn’t take any of this well. My job is to be invincible and predictable. Libby doesn’t remember me ever being really sick or of going to the doctor for myself. She has been with me over the years for yearly check ups, but mostly she doesn’t remember. Having the doctor come in and move my knee around while I made a little noise about the pain upset her. I was wheeled into the XRay machine which did not go over well. When the nurse came in with the crutches and brace Libby was NOT happy. Mom doesn’t get sick or hurt. “Okay?” “Mom, okay?” Over and over again today. I have tried to be her crutch for so long. That’s what parents do.
I have always feared getting hurt and not being able to take care of Libby. It is a real fear. I am super careful and try to take very good care of my self. I try. I feel defeated over falling and hurting myself. Seeing how much anxiety this has given her makes my heart hurt.
I run because it is the only thing I do that is just for me. It is my release and my therapy. It’s where I can release all my worry and anxiety. It’s how I allow myself to push physically. After so many years of not taking care of myself: eating junk, not working out, and other negative behaviors, I have landed at this place that has fosters this one positive outlet. I worry so much about Libby and taking care of her that I fear the loss of this ability.
This last week I turned 47 wearing a knee brace and using crutches. Thank goodness I have a Rachael who gets my over achieving personality. Who gets the fears of not being able to take care of... she gets it. I am grateful.
I have a group of people who I am priveledged to work with who have been so amazing helping and trying to help me do what needs to be done. I am grateful.
I will not live in fear. I will finish. I will use the crutches to be the crutch for Libby. I will.
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