Just a little 5K

Sometime during my holiday break I sent a message to a friend while under the influence of a bit too much alcohol (ok, I’m a light weight, so really it was probably 2 glasses of sparkling wine!)  Will you do a 5K with me?

I really didn’t have any concern she’d say no, I was more scared that she’d say yes and then commit to it.  See, I asked someone who would not let me weasel my way out of it.   Not that my other friends are pushovers, it’s just they were there to see the effects the last 5K had on me.  “Not pretty” was an understatement.  Me saying “no way in HELL” to them kept them at bay.   I did receive a very enthusiastic YES and I think I might have had a few more glasses to drink because by the time I was done with my break I’d committed to doing not just one 5K, but 4.  Not in a row, but over the course of the upcoming new year, so 4 over the 12 months that makes up 2016.

So I don’t quite remember at what point she asked me if I wanted to join her on a road trip to Oshkosh and do a 5K while she ran a half marathon, but I do know my mouth … ok, my fingers … engaged long before my brain did.  Sure! 

After I committed I started thinking of all the millions of reasons I couldn’t do it.  First off it was a 5K.  For those not conversion inclined, that is 3.1 miles.  In a row.  You don’t get to spread it over a day or two.

Second, I had committed to riding in a car, which stiffens me up some times to the point walking sucks, for a while before I even do this walk???  Dummy.

Third, I don’t do sleep overs.  No, it wasn’t because I didn’t trust her and feared she’d kill me in my sleep and run from the scene.  I just … I don’t know what it is.  I used to stay at friend’s houses and I used to have friends over … when I was little.  I have not done anything like this.  Not a traveler for the most part and when I have gone somewhere it’s all about how fast I can get back home to my safe place.  Dear lord that makes me sound like some kind of antisocial hermit doesn’t it?  I’m not, I’m just … I don’t know.

Fourth, the friend I said yes to has turned her whole health around and gone literally to a jaw dropping before and after picture series.  Really, all I have to do is say the number she lost and you’ll be picking your jaw up off the ground.  I don’t think I mentioned she’s my former Weight Watcher leader … so I had this total “omigod what if I make some social faux pas and eat an entire chocolate dipped cheesecake in her presence?!?!”  Not that she would have judged me … oh wait, she would have slapped me … never mind.  I’d give her permission to do so though!

 

After my brain caught up I thought about it all and realized I did have time to train, my body would do what it would do, and for the overnight part … it was a night, not a month!

I also thought about the fact that I would be able to watch someone who’s been VERY successful with weight loss and maintenance in action.  Kind of like a private study course on how to do WW right.  I’m not sure if she knows it, but I made a lot of observations about her approach to food and fitness (ok, and life) during the time we spent together.  I wish I could give you a single sentence summary on what to do, but it alas isn’t that simple, as all of us fighting for our health know.  Let’s just say if you get a chance to spend a chunk of quality time with a successful weight-loser, do it.  Unless it involves kidnapping, then don’t.  Plus since they lost, they are fast and since you’re not there yet, you’re not.  Just won’t work … just saying.

The week before the 5K I had some negative feedback about whether I should go through with it.  My beloved was seriously afraid I’d end up like I was after the first one.  I understood his fear, but I wanted support.

My dad’s therapist in the nursing home (who I just met that particular Saturday) tried to talk me out of a lot of things.  Like doing anything that wasn’t sanctioned and supervised by a licensed physical therapist.  Please note, while he lectured me on all the things I can’t/shouldn’t do, my Dad just kept doing his therapy, but with a knowing smile that Mr. Therapist was not going to run my life.

The day after all this I went for a walk with a 2 mile goal in mind.  Somewhere along the way the fire they’d lit under my butt kicked in and I went for it.  I did 3.1, a nice out and back on a trail down the street from us that I didn’t know existed.  I came back sunburned, little worn out, but really no worse for wear.  Talk about a victory!

Even still as the time approached for Sunday’s 5K I was nervous.  Ok, little more than nervous since I kind of wanted to puke on my shoes to get out of doing it.  Thankfully I was with someone who understood my fears (she’s been there, she does have the shirt!) and I had a lot of friends just a tap away through texts and good old Facebook.  The amount of support was ridiculous and I loved every bit of it!

The half marathoners left at 7 am, leaving all us 5K folks to limber up and scope each other out for a few minutes before our start.  As people ran all around and did various kinds of lunges, I sat on a bench.  Sure, I retied my shoes, but I figured no point in wasting a good bench…

They started us off (I think it was a horn, but really it could have just been GO) and this giant sea of people took off.  I’d sized up one woman who was much like me … older, fatter, and I’d thought had the speed of a turtle.  Ha ha ha, laughs on me.  She smoked my ass.  Yep, I got to the first turn and every single person was half a block away.  It never did get better.  I was alone.  At first I thought “well, at least I can keep my eye on the pack” but at some point they vanished.

Bastards.

At first I felt really sad for myself.  Poor poor Karen, alllllll alone.  Then I realized I was going by houses that help people still nestled in their beds.  (Again, bastards!)  Hmm, that means something …

At the next corner it was just one lonely volunteer waiting for me to come by.  He started clapping and cheering me on.  I looked around to see who it was for and then naturally assumed he was a “special” volunteer and thought it was wonderful there was room for everyone to help with this day.  I down played his cheering by pointing out that I was last, that most likely he could take his cones and go home … and he told me last doesn’t matter, what matters is doing …..

I thought a lot about giving up for a while, then I met someone almost at the half way point who couldn’t have woken me up more if she’d backhanded me.  She was probably close to my age, definitely smaller, and was cheering like mad for me.  I again pointed out my status …. and she went walking with me … I thought that was sweet and then I found out that my pace allowed her to light into me in the most joyful and kind way a stranger ever could.  She told me that she volunteers every year to work this race and has never done it.  Had no plans to do it.  Because she thought she couldn’t.  Nope, would not even try.  So she told me to end the beating myself up for whatever place I was in and accept how awesome it was that I was doing this.  She walked with me a few minutes, said some other things that I just want to hold close, and she sent me to the half way mark, where I did NOT apologize for being the last one by.

There were other things I encountered (yeah for random people with cowbells, pacers on bikes, woman in a van taking pictures of me and drawbridges!) but I wish I could paint you the picture of what it was like to finish this course.  Let me try…

The last part of the course for all of us took us over this giant drawbridge.  As you went up the incline you could peer over the rail and see the banner for the finish line.  It’s such a welcome sight, knowing you are almost there.  Coming off the bridge you turn right, follow a sidewalk by the river, then you’re routed through a parking lot to the corral that herds you into the finish line.

This final route is filled with people.  Some who’ve finished their event, some waiting for loved ones and friends to finish, and some just there to cheer.  It’s a giant crowd of people who are there just to celebrate in everyone’s achievement.  It’s fabulous … loud … visually stimulating … and utterly amazing.  When I got to the chute, there were people clapping and screaming for me.  I had people reaching out to high five me and pat me on the back as I went by.    Lots of “you go girl” and “you’re awesome” mixed in with “way to go” and various other positive chants.  It was so much and so emotional that I just broke down and cried as I finished.  Like gut racking, someone has died, sobbing!  The girl who gave me a bottle of water at the end said “I want to hug you, just because you are amazing.”  She didn’t want me to stop crying, because she was crying too.  It was just this moment and she got what it meant to me, even though it hadn’t sunk in what it meant to anyone else.

I had a lot of people talk to me afterwards.  One guy made a point to chase me down as I went by.  He even said he needed to talk to me.  What he “needed” to say was how much I inspired him and taught him.  That he had no good reason for not doing what I did today.  That I taught him a lesson about himself.  He shared this not as a story of how the fat handicapped woman shamed him, but because seeing me do this gave him a hopeful energy and the understanding that we are all more capable than we give ourselves credit for.  Yes, I cried more and yes, we hugged.

After that I had a few others talk briefly to me and I was just looking for a place to sit when a woman ran up to me, calling “miss miss MISSSSSS” to make sure I didn’t get lost on her.  She approached me with tears going down her face.  She proceeded to tell me how he son has a leg length issue too and he was being pushed in the race today … but she was going to tell him about me and what you can do if you work hard and believe.  She just wanted to thank me for showing it can be done and for providing proof to another handicapped person that our limits aren’t always what society or doctors dictate.  She and her husband both hugged me and said some other wonderful things and went on their way.   I turned, put my head in my arms on the side of the stage and sobbed.

It’s amazing how much a little over 24 hours of time can change your life.  While I would love to say this fixed me, I can say it made me better.  Physically I’m stronger.  Much stronger than I thought.  Mentally I have grown.  I have so far to go, but the leap I made this weekend will be with me forever.  I still have so much to process and digest, then act on.

I’ve always felt somewhat embarrassed by praise for being handicapped but still doing things.  It sounds silly to me until I realize that it was a choice.  No one would have faulted me for staying in a wheelchair and calling myself disabled.  I just wasn’t willing to settle for that.  Actually it just never occurred to me to do that.  There was no point where I entertained that as an option.  I was more of the “oh yeah, just watch me!” kind of person.  Until you actually watched me, then I would be apologetic and try to get you to change your mind that I am or ever had done anything remotely inspiring or interesting.

Until this weekend.  I was showered in a rainbow, unicorn filled rain of love, praise and admiration and for once instead of shunning it off, and I let it soak in … to my core.

It hasn’t been easy to get where I am.  My road is filled with so many coulda woulda shoulda moments, but whose isn’t?  Faster, better, wiser, whatever …. what does it matter?  I can focus all I want on what I should have done or where I should be … or I can celebrate where I am and where I am going!  I can absorb all the good and the bad and mold them into what I need.  I’m also done worrying about my fear that saying “look what I’ve done!” is used by someone to look at their own actions in shame.  That’s not me, that’s not who I am, and I can’t be responsible for what someone uses my story for.

My name is Karen and I do 5Ks …. and Weight Watchers … and I am a fighter … and I am strong.