A Mother Runner’s Goal: 40 Races Before Turning 40
The name tag that started it all.
The summer of 2013, Malena Jackson, a 39-year-old mother of three, came to a mother runner party in Denver with her pal Melanie. It was the first party we decided that we wanted attendees to write goals on their nametags…a little ice-breaker of sorts and a way to take advantage of the positive energy the events create.
Without much thought, Malena wrote down a pretty ambitious goal: 40 races before she turned 40 in December of 2014. Sarah and I, of course, loved the symmetrical, ambitious goal, and both mentioned it when we signed her copy of Train Like a Mother.
“Well, now it was in print by the famous Mother Runners,” Malena remembers, “Now I really had to do it! I decided to count my previous four completed races as part of my 40. And I made my own rules: 1. Must be 5k or longer. 2. Can repeat a race. 3. Time doesn’t matter; finishing with a smile does!”
Before we give away the ending, here’s the story of Malena and her running, told in her words:
THE REAL START OF IT ALL—AND THE FIRST FOUR RACES
In the summer of 2010 when my third child turned 1, I decided I was likely finished trying to get pregnant, being pregnant, or nursing. It was quite the realization, as I had been involved in one of those three activities for about 13 years! I decided to try to take my body back. A runner friend of mine, Miriam, told me the Galloway run-walk program. It seemed pretty conservative and most importantly doable, so I tried it — maybe just 20 seconds of running and then two minutes of walking.
Before I knew it, after a few weeks I had made it two whole miles with a run-walk. Some time after that I looked at my husband and said, “You know, I’ve always wanted to run a marathon before I turn 40.”
My husband’s response, “What?! We’ve been together since high school and you’ve never mentioned this before! Well, okay. I’ll do it, too.”
By the fall of 2010 my husband was also running. I had lost about 30 pounds; he had lost about 50. In October 2010 we both signed up for and completed our first 5k at the Race for Fetal Hope (now called the Great Candy Run), then the March 2011 Running of the Green 7k, followed by the Colfax Half Marathon in May 2011. We ran the Walt Disney World Marathon in January 2012 and completed it together in 5:48.
FAVORITE RACES
Just like each runner has a story, so does each race. But two of them stand out in my mind slightly more than the others.
“Crossing the finish line at the Walt Disney World Princess Half Marathon in February 2014. Blurry, but awesome.
In February 2014 I ran the Walt Disney World Princess Half with my friend Jennifer. It was one of the very few times I traveled and left my family behind. Because I didn’t have to worry about childcare and could be on my own schedule, I was in the perfect state of mind for that race. I didn’t PR—I stopped for some photo opps—but I felt AWESOME for the whole race. It was an amazingly empowering experience—with lots of glitter.
After rockin’ and rollin’ through the half in Denver with her BRF, Beth.
The other race that really stands out in my mind was the 2014 Denver Rock n Roll. This was a last-minute add to my 40×40 because my BRF Beth decided to do it; it would be her second half and my ninth half (as well as my 36th race). I had another half scheduled for just three weeks later so I knew I shouldn’t try to PR, as I didn’t want to take a chance and get injured. Instead, Beth and I agreed that I’d attempt to get her to PR since my pace was a bit faster than hers. She PR’d! Seeing Beth’s smile at the finish made this one of my most gratifying races ever.
Her husband, Adam, threw her a birthday surprise party, and invited her mother runner posse and me. (We were supposed to run pre-party, but it was crazy cold and snowing out, so coffee sufficed.)
LEAST FAVORITE RACES
I raced in 18 degrees on Super Bowl Sunday thinking it was a good omen for Peyton Manning (#18 for the Broncos) to bring home the win for the Broncos, but apparently that didn’t work. I slogged through freezing rain/snow/wind during the 10-mile Cherry Creek Sneak; and I froze my tushy off in pelting snow during the 10k Race for Open Space in Denver.
But my truly least favorite was the 2013 Denver Rock ‘N’ Roll Half. It was an extremely crowded course that never thinned out; there wasn’t a whole lot of entertainment, one of the water stops was empty; and there were no bags to hold all our recovery food/drinks at the end. By that point it was my 13th race and my fourth half. I was extremely disappointed. With just yards to go I didn’t have a clear shot at the finish line and ended up yelling, “MAKE A HOLE!” Very unlike me to yell out something mean during a race. I’m usually full of encouragement for those around me, as it helps to spur me on. (As a postscript, the 2014 Denver Rock ‘N’ Roll was MUCH better.)
An admitted Disney devotee, Malena’s last race was the Castaway 5K on an island during a Disney cruise to celebrate her 40th.
STAYING MOTIVATED
We all draw inspiration from one another. Listening to other runners was a great motivation—as was thinking about the awesome bling from the longer races. Along the way friends and family were telling me, “I started running again because of you,” or “I didn’t think I could run, but I saw you were doing it so I wanted to try.” Or my husband who would say, “You know without you, I never would have lost those 50 pounds or started running.” Those are powerful ideas to think about and added fuel to my training.
For my longer races I began to wear a sign on my back that read, “Running 40 races before my 40th birthday! This is race #XX!” That was a fantastic motivation, as other runners would comment on it during the race. A few even said that they were going to set the same goal because they liked the idea so much. And a couple of times I had runners say, “Hey, I saw you at this other race! Good for you!” I had kind of become my own celebrity.
Admittedly, there were times I thought it would be nice to just sleep in, but with each race I was one step closer to my goal. There would be time for sleep later.
SHE DID IT—AND HAS THE BLING TO PROVE IT
A necklace that her BRF Beth made her to commemorate her 40 races. Each stone stands for a specific distance—it came with a key—with the largest being her marathons.
A RUNDOWN OF THE DISTANCES
(2) full marathons (Walt Disney World, 2012 and 2014)
(10) half marathons (thought it would be fun to say that 25% of my races were 13.1 miles)
(2) 10-milers
(1) 15k
(1) 8-mile trail run
(1) 10k+5k double race
(2) 10ks
(1) 7k
(3) 4-milers
(17) 5ks
TOTAL MILES: 311.45 + countless training runs
ADVICE (IN CASE YOU’RE INTERESTED)
I once heard a saying about parenting: The days are long, but the years are short. I think that sentiment can apply to so much in our lives. If you never try to reach your goal, how will you ever know if you can succeed? You might be surprised what you really can do. The most important thing: Have fun. It’s not worth the time commitment if you’re not enjoying it.
Three generations run at Disney: the first 5K for Malena’s parents and the second for her boys. (Her daughter was asleep at the hotel with family.)
NEXT GOAL (MAYBE)
I’ve thought about a total of 50 halfs before I turn 50, which leaves me with an average of four halfs per year. I’ve also thought about trying to run a half in all 50 states with no specific timeline in mind. I still have never done a relay or something like Ragnar, so maybe I’ll aim for one of those at some point. Truly, at the moment I’m still basking in having completed my original 40 by 40 goal.
Congrats, Malena! Love your attitude and story–and hope it has you, dear mother runners, thinking about what you want to focus on this coming year. Tomorrow and Thursday we’ll have a little exercise—no sweat required—where you can take advantage of the strong energy this community creates…and maybe win a prize too. Stay tuned.
In the meantime, curious: have you ever set a goal like Malena’s?
Bethany Takes on Boston: The M Word
Before Bethany plays Santa, she’s got a couple of items to ask for herself.
As Bethany Meyer starts to contemplate training for Boston when the calendar turns to 2015, she’s got a few things on her Christmas list. To remind you: Bethany will be running the Boston Marathon and documenting it on AMR, thanks to Stonyfield Organic Yogurt, who generously offered us a number for a mother runner in the Boston Marathon. Bethany will start writing twice a month in January.
Dear Santa,
Another year has gone by in a blink. Every day that passes feels strangely like the one that preceded it. Hectic and steeped in routine. Yet, when I look back on this year in its entirety–these 365 days that all felt similar as I lived them–I get a sense just how much things have changed. Yes, each of my four boys is older. And taller. Voices are deeper. Jawlines are sharper.
One no longer sucks his thumb, which pleases his dentist immensely and breaks my heart just a fraction. Another has shown a love for soccer, which bonds him so endearingly to his Daddy. One has scored his first role in a play, which is equal parts random and awesome. Another has stood in front of hundreds of people and harmonized a verse of Oh Holy Night with perfect pitch and perfect poise. As habitual as every day has felt for me, the nuances of my sons’ experiences are allowing their individual characters to take shape. They are growing into men right before my eyes. So subtly that I almost don’t see it. But it’s there, Santa. There’s no denying it’s there.
I am both exhausted by them and in awe of them, these four boys who occupy the prime real estate in my heart.
Your big night is almost here, Santa. And I’ve done my part to make things merry for my family. On the other side of the holiday sits a 16-week training plan. I suspect it’s difficult for a man who is famous for his oversized waistline to relate to, but I intend to put my body through the proverbial wringer. Voluntarily. I’m going to run 26.2 miles. Without the assistance of a sleigh or any flying reindeer.
I have my coach lined up. Not just any coach. A lover of the sport and a stud runner himself. Coach will share the Boston Marathon course with me on April 20th, 2015. We’re like twins. Except he qualified by running a 2:52, and I’ve never run a marathon. Coach is also my husband’s BRF.
Because—say this with me Santa—on board. I need my husband on board. Marathon training is long, yo. Come March–when I slip out for a three hour run–having my husband on board is critical. If he should happen to call his BRF to complain that I went out for a three hour run, he’ll find himself in hot water with my coach. See what I did there, Santa?
My life has not been my own for over 13 years. And most days that’s OK. I don’t really need much. Except for this upcoming year. This year, with Boston on my horizon, maybe you could find space in your magical bag for a few things to help this Mother Runner on her marathon journey?
So, here is my wish list. In no particular order…
ONE: I was fortunate enough to get pregnant four times and carry full term every time. Here’s a fun fact, Santa: I carried my oldest son full term + eight days. Talk about a boy who still takes his sweet time. When I was pregnant, the doctors and the books recommended that I sleep on my left side to increase blood flow to the baby. I don’t know if that’s still what the doctors and the books recommend. What I do know is that four babies multiplied by nine months of pregnancy equals 36 months (+ 8 days) that I slept on my left side.
Here’s another fun fact, Santa: I didn’t do that math. My left IT band did it. I’m serious! It talks to me. All the time. It says horrible, unsupportive things. Especially when I run hills. Or increase my mileage too quickly. Or forget to incorporate my hip strengthening exercises. This year for Christmas, will you kindly sprinkle something over my left IT band? Elf dust? Reindeer food? Maybe some Yakety-Yak-Don’t-Talk-Back? Any little holiday potion that makes an IT band stop talking will do.
“I know my hair looksl ike Lego hair right now,” says Bethany, “I’m growing it out.”
TWO: Speaking of kids and pregnancy, my bladder is not what it used to be. I know you don’t perform surgery, Santa, nor do you place a pile of money on the nightstand in order for me to afford that surgery. But, maybe you could leave some of that special detergent that gets the stink out of the running tights and a year’s supply of JustGoGirl pads? My BRF’s and the cloth seats in my car will thank you.
THREE: I am familiar with the story of the Heat Miser and the Cold Miser. So, I know you have some pull with their Mom. That’s right; I’m talking about your friend Mother Nature. We in the Northeast experienced the Polar Vortex last year. If Mother Nature owes you a solid, I know a whole lotta mother runners who would appreciate your ordering up a mild winter. Moms who are the glue that holds their families together. Moms whose running makes their difficult jobs a little less hard.
Now if Mother Nature has other plans, I would settle for a cozy pair of fleece lined tights under the tree. And some toe warmers. Heck, just an empty treadmill at Planet Fitness every time I walk through the doors would suffice.
FOUR: Running partners, big guy. I have them in spades. Special ones. The kind who change my life. If you could align our schedules so we can crank out those long runs together, Santa, I promise to kiss you under the mistletoe. If not, I could totally dig the new Taylor Swift album. It’s so catchy. Perfect running music. Or enough memory on my smartphone to listen to the Serial podcast. More memory on my smartphone would truly be a Christmas miracle.
FIVE: Nutrition, Santa. It is such a big piece. And for me, it’s a challenge. Luckily, it is a challenge made easier by Stonyfield Organic. As the official yogurt sponsor of the Boston Marathon, the team at Stonyfield has generously provided me with coupons for their delicious products that will keep me fueled during training. Beyond that, I could use some help making the smart choices, Santa.
I have made some recipes from Matt Fitzgerald’s Racing Weight Cookbook. And, they are delicious. I bet I would be leaner if I weren’t chasing Matt’s recipes with cookies and eggnog. So send your pesky Elf on the Shelf to sit on my shoulder and remind me to reach for an apple instead of the Twizzlers.
Put my recipe for shrimp and pasta with blush sauce in your pocket and take it back to the North Pole with you. That creamy goodness will translate to pounds on my hips and lead in my shoes. But be a sweetheart, Santa: don’t forget to mail it back to me on April 21st.
SIX: Mental fortitude. Oh, Santa, this is monumental. I ran a half-marathon in November, and I am embarrassed to admit that it was such a tough mental race for me that I nearly called my husband at mile 10 to insist he list me the reasons I should run the last 3.1 miles. That has never happened to me before. I was in a bad way. So many external forces at work that happened to converge on me simultaneously. And I just wasn’t able to compartmentalize.
My goal is to get to the start line of this marathon healthy, trained, rested, happy, and inspired. But I don’t exist in a vacuum, Santa. I have a husband. We have debt. We have children. We have a mix of attention disorders and a recently diagnosed autoimmune disorder in this house. There are some enormous personalities under this little roof, and managing them is no small feat. When I lace up my sneakers, my mental game isn’t always up to par.
Quieting that voice in my head that begs me to slow, to walk, to quit—do you have something for that, Santa? A mantra maybe? My friend Tracey opted to “Embrace the suck” while she ran the Twin Cities Marathon in October. I like that. Acknowledging that the journey won’t be pretty, but it will indeed be worth it.
SEVEN: This is a tricky one. The M word. MARATHON. I don’t know how much you socialize during your off season, Santa, but have you ever had an elf train for her first marathon? And that marathon is the only stinkin’ thing she talks about? All of the other elves humor her, but behind her back, they’re all, “We GET it! She’s running a marathon! But does EVERY conversation have to be ALL marathon ALL THE TIME?” And those elves have a secret calendar where they tally the days until their friend’s marathon is finally over and she can just go back to being their regular friend and converse normally about things that interest elves. Like the Serial podcast. And her outstanding recipe for shrimp and pasta with blush sauce.
Help me not to be that elf, Santa. Make me prolific. Well read. Funny. Engaging. A good listener. Push that M word to the bottom of the list when it comes to conversation starters.
EIGHT: Finally, most importantly, please let this be a good thing for my family. Don’t allow me to be any less the Mom my boys deserve. Or any less the partner my husband needs. My kids know I run. They also know I write. I don’t run in front of them, and I don’t write when they’re home.
When they look at me, they see Mom. The one who does all the things. Kristin Armstrong has a line that rings so true for me, “Running fills the cup that has to pour out for others.” I am so frequently filling everyone else’s cup while mine is left empty. Running is often the best thing for me, so why does it feel like the most difficult thing to get done?
Life simply gets in the way. Training for this race is too important for life to get in the way. The next several months will be a physical and mental test for me. The balance has to shift, which means each of my family members must rise to the occasion. Please don’t make them resentful, Santa. Especially my oldest son. We have a weird dynamic, he and I. His brother was born when he was only 19 months old, and I still find myself overcompensating for that. Packing his lunch. Making his breakfast. Folding and putting away his clothes. I baby him more than the others because my heart believes he was robbed of his time to be my baby when he was little.
It’s ridiculous, Santa, I know. I know! But it’s my truth. At the end of this journey, when my children look at me, who will they see? Will they see more? A girl who perseveres? The woman behind the Mom? That would be something, wouldn’t it, Santa? Or when they look at me, maybe they’ll see the same Mom they’ve always seen. I can live with the same. Please just don’t allow them to see less.
I want you to know that I still believe in the magic of Christmas and spirit of giving. Now more than ever. And if I haven’t said so before, thank you. Believing in you was one of the great joys of my childhood. It has been a privilege to believe in you all over again and experience that same wonder alongside each of my children…boys who are growing and changing each day of every passing year.
Your marathon night rolls around next week, and mine will be here come spring.
With a little luck, Santa, maybe we both can fly.
XOXO,
Bethany
#141: Returning to Running after Fever or Flu
Dr. Marni Nicholas after her first triathlon.
A timely topic and, like a hearty chicken soup, it’s chock full of good things—namely advice from a family practitioner about when and how to resume running after an illness. Dimity and Sarah host Marni Nicholas, M.D., a mother runner of two school-age sons and doctor of internal medicine in New Hampshire. The good doctor starts by talking about how she practices what she preaches, leading a beginners’ 5K program in her community every spring. Once talk turns to tissues and thermometers, Dr. Marni delivers good news, which is that moderate exercise boosts immunity so a short, easy run can help chase a cold away. A fever, however, is another story: Dr. Marni gives an Rx for how long to wait after a fever to resume running, and then to, “start low and slow.” Knowing she’s talking to moms, Dr. Marni also talks hand hygiene. Before being joined by their guest, the gals talk about “butt germs” (a direct quote from Dim), things packaged in tubes, and gift giving in their families. (No, the topics are not related. Well, not exactly.) Plus, the correct pronunciation of the word, “antibiotics.”
*If you’re digging our podcasts, we’d be super-grateful if you’d take a minute (because we *know* you have so many to spare!) to write a review on iTunes. Many thanks.
**Also, the quickest way to get our podcasts is to subscribe to the show via iTunes. Clicking this link will automatically download the shows to your iTunes account. It doesn’t get any simpler than that!
#140: When and How to Hire a Coach
Angela Bekkala (left) and her Saucony 26Strong cadet, Kailey Ingerman, at the start of their marathon journey, which culminates this weekend in Honolulu.
Coaches aren’t just for top-tier athletes: Dimity and Sarah are joined by two running coaches who talk about how a pro can get any runner or triathlete to her very best. First up: Angela Bekkala. This mother of twins and running coach in New Hampshire describes a coach as a neutral party who can help you discover your potential and prevent injury—two worthy goals in the mother runner playbook. She also talks about, “the power of trying,” and how a coach addresses the brain plus the body. Next, Briana Boehmer, the coach who guided Dimity to her Ironman success and Sarah to her recent Boston-qualifying marathon finish, describes how a coach makes good decisions for you and opens your eyes to what you can do. She sagely labels a coach-athlete relationship as, “a partnership,” and the ladies talk about how pressure is alleviated on race day by knowing a coach has your back.
Also, find out how singer Moby is to blame for Dimity’s quivering quads—and why Sarah’s son just got 30 stitches. Finally, the gals make a plea for you to leave a short voicemail about a standout 2014 race: The number to call is 470-BADASS1 (470-223-2771).
*If you’re digging our podcasts, we’d be super-grateful if you’d take a minute (because we *know* you have so many to spare!) to write a review on iTunes. Many thanks.
**Also, the quickest way to get our podcasts is to subscribe to the show via iTunes. Clicking this link will automatically download the shows to your iTunes account. It doesn’t get any simpler than that!
Martini Friday: Time is not on my side
I wound up taking just a leeetle bit more time off after the Philly Half than I’d intended to. What with holiday travel and the end of the semester, eight or nine days went by before I managed to lace up my Brooks Ghost 6s and head out for a 3 mile run.
Oh, Ghost 6; my Ghost 6.
(An aside: can I mention how irritating it is to finally find a pair of running shoes you love only to have them discontinued and/or replaced with a new model? I know, I know. There are Ghost 7s but I fear change. First, they came for my favorite socks and I said, well, not nothing but very little. Now they’ve come for my Ghost 6s. Weenies.)
By the time Friday rolled around, given a long workweek and some extended family angst that is not worth exposing to the internet as a whole, I was more than ready to burn off some excess brooding during a long run on Saturday morning. When I woke up, however, the weather wasn’t cooperating. The temperature was just above freezing, which was good enough, but the skies were sheeting rain.
Because I am a delicate flower who isn’t in training for anything until March 2015, I decided to throw myself into some vigorous housekeeping and save the long run for Sunday, even though I knew it would be about 19 degrees then.
For once, the weather folk were right. Sunday dawned so cold that I was happy I neither a) owned a brass monkey nor b) left him out all night. Just getting started was a chore. I’d been away from long runs long enough that I couldn’t remember how Herr Garmin worked and fumbled at it a bit before I could really get going.
Six miles later, I was full of discoveries. I learned that there is a temperature below which your iPhone will simply turn itself off. I learned that 75+ minutes on the frozen tundra can calm any emotional irritation. I learned that, sometimes, you just can’t get your tush muscles to warm up, even when you stand directly in front of the wood stove after the run. And I learned that Pop Culture Happy Hour’s Glen Weldon’s analysis of The Year Without a Santa Claus can make you laugh like a loon even when your face is frozen.
You know the song.
So while it wasn’t the fastest or best-est run I’ve had, it was, if nothing else, educational.
I have the same response to running in the winter as a goldfish does to the castle in her bowl: surprised each time it turns up. It’s like I forget how punishing those sub-freezing runs are two seconds after the spring thaw finally comes. Yes, I totally feel like a badass for the rest of the day if I’ve run through frigid temps — but I’m not sure that makes up for how much my body dreads dashing out the door.
Which leads me to pondering my winter running options, because it looks like the season of snow and cold is finally here. My college’s indoor track is still available and perfect for shorter runs, like speedwork or 30 minute easy days. But by the tiny circuit does a number on my knees for any distance longer than that. There’s the treadmill, which, is, again, great for short runs but decidedly un-fun for longer. I have no perfect solution, here. Just a lot of whining and keeping an eye on the forecast and sidewalk conditions.
But my big running conundrum right now is my upcoming job change, which will move me from a job with more flexible hours into one with set hours. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to be in an office from 8:30 – 4:30 and had to fit running around that. Right now, I’m thinking that I’ll just have to get up extra-extra early to get some sweat in, which means that the runs will be even colder and I’ll fall asleep even earlier than my usual 10 p.m., maybe even before my kids.
This was before all the snow. Now imagine the same scene with an inch of slush.
I need to tap the mother runner hive mind: how do you work running in around your day job? What pockets of time am I missing? And how do you not wind up taking two showers?
Most Important Mile: Anonymous
This Most Important Mile arrived via email a few weeks ago. I checked in with the mother who wrote it, making sure she was ready to publically share the trials of her daughter and family. She was, she assured me, but asked to remain anonymous to protect her daughter, so we’re honoring that wish. “One of the hardest parts of this whole experience is sharing,” she wrote back, “We (the proverbial “we”) live in nice areas, we have (generally speaking) happy, well-fed families. We have resources and good schools, etc. But drug abuse makes folks uncomfortable. As does mental health. It’s hard to find that really good friend to listen and commiserate; it’s a problem that’s not in many families’ repertoire for coping. And—and this is important—it’s a problem a growing number of families are facing.”
One Monday this fall, I opened my daughter’s desk drawer to quickly shove the desktop contents inside before the cleaning ladies came.
I found heroin.
Yes, I freaked out. But with all my might and reserve, I resisted the urge to drive to her school and pull her out by her ponytail. When when I picked her up after school, I resisted the urge to scream at her all the way home. I resisted the urge to break down in tears in front of her, to show her how terrified I was. Instead, we—my husband and I—were the face of calm. We explained to her what we knew. The course of action we researched and were going to take. And what we expected from her.
On Tuesday I ran my scheduled 7 mile tempo run. My last hard run before my taper for my goal race.
The 2-mile warm up went well. I went over and over in my head the list of appointments I had scheduled, the list of phone calls I still needed to make, the list of hard conversations I still needed to have.
Mile 3: the first mile of 3 at race pace. It’s a bit of an incline, but I got to my pace and tried to settle in. I started role-playing the tough conversations.
Mile 4: the straight-away. My pace slows slightly and I’m struggling to drop those last few seconds. The enormity of our situation sinks in.
Mile 5: This should be easy. I’ve trained for nearly 14 weeks, coming off a great spring training session. I should be hitting my race pace. But I can’t.
With every step, I’m thinking about my daughter, worried about the unknown, the implications this has for everyone in our family. My breathing becomes shallow and labored; my eyes well with tears. I stop with a half mile to go and just sit on the curb and sob.
I don’t know how long I sat there. Not that long, as I still had another child to see off to school that morning.
I’d like to say that I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and finished that run with the determination to make everything right.
But I didn’t. I ran home at a snail’s pace. Heavy heart, heavy feet.
Three years ago, when I started running, I thought that was hard. Getting myself back into shape. Waking up early regularly. Battling injuries and awful weather. Challenging myself to run that first mile, and then go further and further and further, to actually get to that half marathon distance. But I controlled that destiny.
Now I know, this is hard.
This—mile 7 and all the emotions that I’m carrying through it— is the most important mile of my life.
Turned out, it wasn’t.
My daughter attended an outpatient drug treatment program with ups and downs, but no relapses, and “graduated” after 9 weeks.
Amidst all this, I continued to train. I completed both my goal race and an extra—neither went well. It didn’t matter. We were finding our new normal.
Until we weren’t.
November 10, she called me from school in tears, afraid she might hurt herself. I can’t say I was surprised. Nothing at this point surprises me. Throughout her drug treatment program, I had wondered about underlying mental health issues, as her drug abuse seemed atypical of the other kids in the program.
Twelve hours later, she was admitted to a pediatric psych ward at one of the few hospitals that treats minors. She’s lucky she got a bed. It’s full of teenagers, and, so so sadly, a five-year-old.
Facebook is awash in pictures of kids in ERs with broken limbs and casts,; all with tons of “likes” and “oh-no” and “feel better soon” comments. But you can’t post drug abuse and I-might-hurt-myself on Facebook.
Nothing equips you for the special psych ER room, empty save for one bed. Nothing equips you for the 10-hour wait for a transfer to another hospital, during which you can’t knit or write—needles and pens are dangerous—or even sit on the same bed with your hurting child. Nothing equips you for the scramble when you realize you’ll be stuck there for 10 hours, but your 10-year-old is waiting at home for dinner, your husband’s commuter train has been delayed, and you legally can not leave your troubled minor alone even though your house is .82 miles (via Garmin) from the ER. Nothing equips you for a diagnosis of major depression in your 16-year-old.
Nothing equips you for any of that. But you do what you have to do to move forward.
And for me, that meant waking up the next morning at 5 a.m., lacing up my shoes, and heading out. There was no scheduled tempo run this time around; I’m not in training for anything now. There were no tears either, as I think I’m completely dried out. But it’s important to run. To move forward. To take all those steps, as painful as they may be. I have no control over any of this, but running makes me the best parent I can be and puts me in the best position to help my daughter.
One by one I will take my steps, and make my mile. My most important mile.
The writer would be happy to connect with any other mother runners who are in similar circumstances; if you’d like to reach out to her, please email us at runmother [at] gmail [dot] com and we’ll be sure she receives it.