Reflections on the 2010's (bring on 2020)

"So, today is the last day of the year"? My husband asks, I wasn't worried about him until that question. "Are you sure you're okay"? Just to put this goof's delirium into perspective he is currently out on a 26.2 mile run (during a winter weather advisory in Northern Lower Michigan), the 6th of 26 he plans to run consecutively. More calories and hydration for you my friend. But yes, it is the last day of the year and the decade, and what a decade it has been. I am trying to take a few minutes to reflect on the year as well as the decade as we roll into a new one.

I distinctly remember New Year's 2010. I remember I had just weaned myself off of opiate pain killers, so I could have my first drink in months on New Year's. I remember I was still required to use a walker, but had graduated out of the much despised wheelchair. I was planning my return to work after being out for almost 2 full months. I was doing 2 physical therapy, and one occupational hand therapy sessions a week, and on my own working through exercises for over an hour every day. I had not walked unaided since early November, when I was in a serious vehicle vs. pedestrian accident (guess which I was). We had to rent a van to transport me downstate for Christmas, and then back home.

Only one week off the painkillers and I was irritable and itchy with withdrawal, and feeling some not unsubstantial pain from the still healing broken bones. The emotional toll of the accident had yet to hit me full force (that was yet months away). I was just beginning to come to terms with my new "normal". It was grim.

I was back home in the cold dark of January in Leelanau. What I needed then was hope. I was looking ahead to a cold and dark time. Even now it is hard to think back to that place. What a relief it would have been to glimpse this future. I had the love and support of my husband and son, who pulled me in a sled through the forest on a show shoe hike. I had the support of my community who provided us with dinners for months. Even with the outpouring of love it was a challenge to keep my head above water. 2010 Kat, have faith, 2020 Kat wants to give you hope.

I would never have guessed then that I would have made such a come-back. In fact there was no reason to even dream it. Several doctors and nurses told me my running days were over. My therapists raised their eyebrows when I shared my goals. As broken and bruised as I was there was some fire in me that just kept smoldering, even when I rained tears on it.

It started with first steps in the pool, a very ugly limping run (if you could even call it that) for 100 yards. Eventually 5Ks, then gradually a half marathon. But after a year of physical struggle, the emotional fall-out of the trauma, that I had held at bay for months, hit like a tsunami. The facade fooled everyone, my colleagues and boss thought I was back to who I was before. And out of misguided kindness treated me that way. I was not, I was all hairline cracks, and I shattered. And when I did, I did not have my old friend the run, she was broken, and lopsided, and out of rhythm, like me. The emotional trauma of the accident was equally as hard to recover from as the physical.

It was through the physical work and hours alone outside, re-making my run that I found peace and healing. My form had to change, I had to rework the biomechanics of running which had previously come so naturally. My focus had to shift from what was lost to what I could still do. What a miracle my recovery was. I made a point of trying to do what was supposed to be impossible. My body did not let me down, what a blessing to be able to run a marathon, or an ultra marathon. I became a devout member of the "Church of the Sunday Morning Long Run". I am so lucky to be able to run until my muscles and lungs burn. There are those that truly cannot.

When one of my students lost her mom and put on a triathlon in her memory I volunteered and that race called to me. I taught myself to swim, figured out (often the hard way) how to bike in a triathlon. I made glorious, miraculous mistakes. Had epic fails, and learned to love every minute of it. I met amazing people! I made memories, I lived as big as I could. I took on a 70.3 then 3 full Ironman, I am an Ironman damn it!

I have lived to make that broken 31 year old with the walker proud and hopeful. 10 years is a long time, it can change everything. Welcome 2020.