Why I Run
After an incredibly long day of three therapy
appointments, figuring out a referral with Tricare, and work sandwiched
between, I whined on the phone to my brother that I just wanted a day of
“normal”, a day with nothing medically related and a regular 8-5 job. He asked, “Have you ever considered that this
IS your normal?” Pretty smart – maybe he was right.
There are some moments in life that shift our
“normal” so far off from where we envisioned that it is seemingly impossible to
comprehend that “normal” is still within personal reach. My first encounter
with these moments came at 12:45 on April 16, 2010 with the doctor stating, “Your
son has Down Syndrome”. Although this sentence altered life as I had previously
known it, the moment was merely a line drive to shortstop. It was the news of
Claire’s suspected genetic disorder that sent the ball so far into left field
that it left the stadium.
Over the years I have watched my friends and family
deal with their own monumental moments. From the deaths of children, spouses,
and parents to divorce to fertility issues to other crazy life incidents, I
have seen others react with anger, denial, withdrawal, and humor. There is no
one right way to handle the repercussions of these pivotal moments. When the
responsibility or grief or whatever emotion follows becomes so painful to
endure, it is simply about survival. This is why I run.
Nine years ago I signed up for my first half
marathon because it sounded like a good challenge, and I was crazy enough to
try it. Plus, think of all the beer I could drink with all of those calories I
was burning!! Fast-forward to this past July, and my rationale was not quite
the same. Running a full marathon always
piqued my interest, but I always had a justification for not doing it. “I’m too
busy”…..”Luke is just too little to be away so much”….”Only crazy people run
26.2 miles” – All seemed 100% valid, at least until I had Claire.
In 2014, the kids have had over 400 hours of
physical, occupation, and vision therapy in addition to visits to nine
specialty clinics. Through these appointments, Luke constantly remains the
happiest and most content human being that I have ever encountered. His
attitude is something that I can only dream of attaining. To watch Claire
struggle to learn every single nuance of daily functioning has taught me the
true meaning of endurance.
I watch my friends with their kids, and I marvel at
how naturally they progress from one skill to another. If I did not have
Claire, this is something I would have never noticed nor appreciated in the
chaotic hustle and bustle of the daily lives we lead. The jealousy I used to
feel for the ease in which milestones were reached has been replaced by a true
sense of awe over how the human body is capable of developing. I looked at
myself and realized the God-given gifts of health, motivation, an insanely
supportive husband, an incredibly flexible job, and inspiring kids that I was
allowing to waste away. So, on that fateful day in July, I joined the San
Antonio Marathon Training team and haven’t looked back.
Each week when I run, I am the crazy loon wiping
tears from my eyes as 100 of us take off running on the dark trails throughout the
city. As the sun rises and we push forward, stories are shared of why we are
here. From Cancer survivors to weight loss champions to empty-nesters looking
for a hobby, each of us has a reason to challenge our bodies to endure the 26.2
mile race.
For me, it is watching Claire’s struggle. While
other kids run around, get into trouble, and play with their friends, she sits at
the sideline in her wheelchair, unable to move independently. Since she is
legally blind, we do not even know the extent to which she sees the world
around her. She has never sat up in her crib, held a bottle, fed herself, or
taken a step. Each time she needs to be moved because she is uncomfortable,
feels thirsty, or wants another bite of food, she relies 100% on the help of
others.
I have the freedom to move as I please, to go where
I want, and to do whatever I feel like. So, I run. Training has been an
emotional release to savor the stability of our lives in San Antonio, to
quietly say prayers of thanks for the support Luke and Claire have, and to
celebrate the milestones of this past year. From gaining a pound to signing
“more” for the first time, Claire has defied the grim predictions of the
doctors in Shreveport two years ago. She will continue to defy these odds, and
I will continue to run. When I cross
that finish line on Sunday, we’re going to help her stand to celebrate.
So, here’s to running my first marathon and Claire
standing, two things that I once thought were impossible.
