The Mohonk Preserve, Shawangunk Mountains, New York.
It’s been two months since my spinal surgery – a total of 16 months since the actual accident that caused my injuries. Physical therapy and disc regeneration treatments continue to consume my days. I am beginning to notice significant progress in strength, flexibility and mobility, but it is a lengthy process and I am still riding the waves of good days and bad.
TODAY, however, held a monumental win in my life, as a friend and I traveled to an area just south of the Catskill Mountains in New York and treated ourselves to a day of hiking and rock climbing. We trekked across miles and miles of trails, enveloping ourselves in the celebratory colors of fall, and experienced the victory of cresting several peaks that host the most glorious of views.
Mohonk Mountain House – New Paltz, New York
It was a breathtaking experience, and encouraging all at once – a much needed break from the sterility of Doctor’s offices and medical equipment.
Just two months ago, I was struggling to walk for 30 minutes on flat ground… but today I was able to hike and climb for 6+ hours through the Mohonk Preserve!
Amidst the months of spine surgery, disc regeneration and physical therapy, all these treatments have become quite intense – but the progress being made is already proving to be immense. This moment of realization brings me a renewed sense of strength and the highest of hopes for the months to come!
The Boston Athletic Association proudly announced yesterday that all qualified athletes who submitted applications during the 2023 Boston Marathon registration window will be accepted into the April 17th race, provided their qualifying time is verified. A total of 23,267 applications were submitted over the five-day registration window.
The 127th Boston Marathon will feature a field size of 30,000 participants. With 23,267 qualified, invited athletes, the remaining 6,733 participants will consist of athletes representing official charity partners, sponsors, members of the professional field, and other invitational entries. This is not “typical” for the Boston Marathon, nor has it been for the past few years.
In 2020, the race was initially postponed to September as Covid-19 made its way around the world, resulting in a global pandemic. By September, however, race officials reluctantly cancelled the in-person event for the first time in the entire 124 year history of the race and, subsequently, offered all registrants the first ever “virtual” Boston Marathon option. Heartbreaking, no doubt, to those who had finallly achieved this dream and were so looking forward to the experience and honor that they had earned.
In 2021, the race was held in person but the date had to be moved from it’s usual, third Monday in April, to October 11th. In this particular year, the Boston Athletic Association also did something that they have never done before – they opened up a virtual race to the first 70,000 registrants over the age of 18. This never before seen gesture on behalf of the B.A.A. welcomed in runners of all levels and abilities, with no qualifying time required. Furthermore, they allowed the athletes from the previous year to re-submit their already existing BQ times for consideration into this year’s in-person event. The overall goal was to inspire people to continue running and pursuing their dreams despite the illnesses and hardships which had befallen us all.
And, while 2022 was indeed held on Patriot’s Day – also known as “Marathon Monday” in the city of Boston, the overall number of registrants and participants was still below average for this most famous race. In the years prior, with the exception of 2020 and 2021, the world of distance running had already come to know that simply qualifying for Boston was rarely ever “enough”. In the past, you would have to exceed your qualifying time by greater than 2 minutes, sometimes even as high as five minutes, in order to receive an actual invite into the race. And this is where I become ambivalent – when “good enough” is not, in fact, actually good enough.
At the end of the day, Boston is still just a race – albeit old and iconic, and put on by a group of people who pride themselves on athletic excellence and exclusivity. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my fair share of love/hate moments when it comes to the Boston Marathon. I spent years of my own life chasing that same dream, only to find out that it was actually fueled by a deep seated insecurity inside of myself, as a person, exhibiting itself outwardly as a burning need for external validation. Once I realized this, I was actually able to address the root cause in myself, work to overcome it, and grow. I never did achieve my BQ – even my best marathon time was a solid 17 minutes slower than I needed it to be. But I did still have the honor of running that iconic course in October 2021, due to that never before offered opportunity. I registered as “virtual”, but chose to run it live, in person, on that course, on my own terms, and with the recognition of the BAA simply as an added bonus. I no longer feel the need to prove anything to anybody in any pursuit… but my heart still feels very happy and excited for those who have chased their BQ, legitimately achieved it, and then receive this most precious invite. They’ve earned it. They deserve it. Who are we to ever rain on their parade? Because here’s the thing about Boston – it was never meant to be “all inclusive”, nor should it be. Just like the Olympics are not open to the everyday, ordinary athlete – if you wish to run the Boston Marathon under invite, with a qualified bib, you must push yourself to achieve more.
There’s a time and place for races with participation medals and no course time limits – but Boston is neither the time nor the place for such allowances.
Boston is not for everyone. The Boston Marathon elevates the standards for endurance racing and it keeps those who chase it motivated, disciplined and inspired.
It’s just my opinion, take it or leave it, but the Boston Marathon is exactly what the Boston Marathon should be – the gold standard for all marathon runners. For this reason, it shall always hold a special place inside my heart. And I was overwhelmed with excitement when I read those words yesterday and realized that, for all those amazing athletes out there, working fulltime jobs and raising families, who still made the time to get those miles in and did all the things that most people won’t in order to realize a dream that most people never will, “good enough” was finally, actually, good enough!
The restoration of a runner is no small feat. It requires time, patience, a positive attitude, and a healthy dose of gratitude.
This morning’s disc regeneration session brought tears to my eyes. Not so much because it hurt, because it’s actually a very gentle and gradual therapy process, – but because I let my own frustrations overwhelm me.
On the more difficult days like this, I have to remind myself of the progress that I have already made, and recall the level of pain that I used to have.
The truth is, I’ve seen better days – but I have also seen much worse. Like so many others, most of my days fall somewhere in between.
I woke up this morning with some aches and pains, but I woke up nonetheless. Some days I struggle to get up and move but, each day, I continue to do my best.
I don’t have everything that I want, but I do have everything that I need. I have a comfortable home and a husband who loves me. I have many “friendlies”, and a few close friends. Those particular friends have become closer to me than my own blood related family.
I no longer have much free time, but I make the most of what I’ve got. It’s been a long slow journey on this injury recovery plan, but we are finally well on our way, despite the months of daily treatments remaining ahead. There’s no highway through healing and results most certainly do not happen overnight.
The restoration of a runner is no small feat. It requires presence and patience, mindfulness of the very moment that you’re in, while not losing sight of how far you’ve already come.
Six weeks ago, I couldn’t put on a pair of socks or shoes, move my bowels normally, snap my own bra, or even shave my own legs. Today, I can do all of those things and more. Progress is definitely being made, regardless of the slowness of pace and degree of difficulty along the way.
I have to keep reminding myself that growth is always uncomfortable, and I know this to be true. There is always a period of pain or discomfort before you level up. The trick is in refusing to let the hard days get you down.
“It’s amazing what the hard times can reveal, who shows up, who walks away, and who’s for real.”
SHINEDOWN, “Daylight”
It was a Saturday in September when things began to change. It was a Sunday in September when I realized that they would never be the same.
If these flip flops could talk, they’d have some stories to tell! They’d tell of love and loss, agony and defeat. They’d speak of beautiful sunrises, friendships, and adventures – moments that I wish could have lasted forever.
They’d tell you of all the fears that I have faced, and one particular journey into a deep, dark, lonely place.
They’d speak of holding on, as well as, letting go – outlooks and outtakes, emotions that sway our perceptions to and fro.
From monumental experiences to monumental mistakes, moments of enlightenment, as well as, deep regret; these flip flops have seen the good, the bad, and the ugly – the most tumultuous three years of my life. But there are epiphanies to be found in pain, metamorphosis to be made amongst the memories, and great strength to be gained through conscientious change.
It was a Sunday in September, of which there are only four. And, on this particular September Sunday, I realized that I was capable of, and deserving of, so much more.
I recently came upon a piece I wrote several years ago about my then current running plan.
“There’s more than one way to be successful.”, I’d told myself – and I knew, from experience, that this statement is tried and true.
I was in the mid weeks of marathon training – when the going gets tough, the tempo runs nearly tap you out, and the all too familiar feelings of inadequacy and angst begin to sink into your soul just as quickly as the sweat drips from your pores.
“No plan is ever “one size fits all”, and no two runners are ever alike.”, I recounted to myself, and for anyone who might be reading, searching for encouragement or comfort.
Now, here I am, deeply involved in the process of recovering from my injuries and, yet still, I find myself repeating the same things.
There is no “one-size fits all” plan to get anyone, anywhere, from where they are now to where they want to be. While the end goal may be written in stone, the plan is most wisely written in pencil – ready to be adapted and redacted, personalized just for you.
It’s been 5 weeks since my spinal surgery to repair the fractures in my thoracic spine and, today, we began Phase #2 of my recovery plan – addressing and treating the injuries in my lumbar spine and sacrum. It’s a daily commitment, as structured as my previous marathon training plans have been, that will span the next several months of my life with its treatments and therapies.
In the meantime, I find myself wandering… taking long walks, getting lost in thought, taking photos of moments that I encounter and beauty that I see. I immerse myself in writing, navigating the process of publication, breaking down old poetry and prose, song lyrics and stories; biding my time while allowing my body to heal, and the lyrics of an old Tom Petty song repeat inside my head:
“Every day you get one more yard, you take it on faith, you take it to the heart – the waiting is the hardest part.”
Tom Petty, “The Waiting”
The waiting. The in-between. As hard as it may be, it all serves a purpose. There is beauty to be found within these detours and delays. I’m doing my best to be patient, fully present within the process, but sometimes my consciousness wanders and the road seems to call out my name. In these moments it’s more difficult to be still, as my heart just aches to run.
Tom Petty was right – the waiting really is the hardest part.
Beyond the Boylston Line 