Too long

It has been far too long since I've sat down to write. So much has happened, so many life changes, so much to share. I became silent because of a nasty custody case and trial. We are still in the midst of it, with 3 continuances and my patience wearing thin for the family law arena where the truth does not set you free and I feel as if court orders are worth less then toilet paper. But, I'll hopefully have my answers by Friday and am anxious to get back to blogging.

I have spent the last 7 months raising the kids, working on trial stuff, getting a job, going to college and training for my half marathon. I am excited to say, I finished my very first half marathon seven months after giving birth in 2 hours and 45 minutes with a metatarsal stress fracture, over the Golden Gate Bridge no less lol. I thought I'd never do it again, but I'm in love with racing and excited to be able to train and do better.

I also have finally allowed myself to start dating. I have had a few relationships and dates since the divorce, but found them not to my liking, not right or unhealthy and never let them get very far. So I took a year and a half break from all things man. Best decision I've ever made. And then out of nowhere I met someone. Well not really, I've known him for ages and the story is pretty cute but right now we are just dating and seeing where it goes and how we fit. It feels good for the first time in over a decade to be appreciated and liked for who I am, without having to be who he wants me to be. Healthy dating is so different from anything I ever had with my ex and I'm slowly unfurling my wings and flying again.

And this amazing, gentle, loving, inspiring, exciting gorgeous man has reminded me and struck the writing bug in my soul again. We spent one night talking to 3 am about things we had in common. Writing happened to be one of them and he asked why I hadn't written in so long. I couldn't really answer, I know the trial made me shut down for fear of fueling the enemy. But I don't know why I really stopped. I have done nothing wrong, there is no evidence or wrong doing that my ex can use against me. Maybe I ran out of inspiration. Maybe I was running myself ragged. Maybe, I lost my voice. I'm still not sure, but the last few weeks the itch has slowly come back. I find myself wishing I could go sit down and type and free my soul. I knew it would come to a point I could no longer deny it, and well . . . here I am.

And with that I'd like to leave you with the amazing experience of my half marathon. My baby sister ran it with me, now mind you she's a pro and has done dozens of halfs and a few full marathons. So she slowed way down to stay with my pace. We had fun and she was a hoot to run with. I am not a morning person, let that be known from the start. Start time was 7 am and I was dreading it, as this was in the city and I was staying in the bay with my other sister about 45 minutes away. So I woke up at 3:45 am and jumped in the shower while my babies sleepily wished me luck, rolled over and passed back out.

My friend came and picked me up and we headed to pick up my baby sis and then to San Francisco, all the while me curious how this was going to play out yet not feeling the least bit anxious or nervous. I'd spent 17 weeks training. I'd hit 9.28 miles and ran for almost 2 hours straight. On a single mom schedule, this was the best I could do and I wasn't concerned with finishing I was concerned with injury and my heart being mad afterwards.

We arrived and it was a beautiful morning. I heard in the back of my head, "You'll never run. You couldn't ever do a half marathon, you're too fat, you're too out of shape, J your knees are CRAP" in the voice of my ex. I sat and looked at the hot guy driving us who I had known since high school and for some reason was into me enough to wake up at 0 dark thirty and cheer me on, looked back at my sister in the backseat who had decided to run this with me and thought to myself, "No B. YOU'RE wrong. You felt fat and out of shape and incapable of doing something like this so you pushed your doubts and fear on a woman who was stronger than you all along because the only way you kept her captive was to make her believe she was broken like you". And I sat up straighter and decided that was the last time I'd ever hear his voice whispering his words in my ear.

Once we headed to the start line I started smiling. This was it and I was surrounded by runners. Big runners, tiny runners, young runners, old runners. Of every size, shape, ethnicity and background you could imagine. And yet, we all shared one thing - we loved running. Here was my community. Here no one knew my past or my history or that I'd given birth 7 months ago to baby number 5 or that my ex had left after beating me. Nope, here I was a runner. Nothing more nothing less. I pinned on my racing bib, tied on my timing chip and felt . . . oddly normal. I was meant to be here. I was suppose to be here years ago, my heart had been it just took years for my body to find it's way. And then we headed off to the start line. Surrounded by hundreds of other racers. We joked that we would be finishing in record time and be back before we knew it. My sis took a selfie of us and I put my headphones in. I looked at her and said, "Let's do this" and felt zero fear, remorse or anxiety. I was ready and excited. I belonged here.

We set off in the 3rd wave of runners and the brisk start felt amazing. Within a half mile I was cramping, bad side cramps. Something I'd not had to deal with in months as I'd gotten my breathing and gate in check with good, diligent training. I had to walk by mile 1 and was annoyed at myself. Something was up and I couldn't figure out what. We headed off and here and there the cramping would get so bad I would have to walk a bit again and my sis was great at not making me feel badly about it. We hit the hills and I was excited that I didn't have to stop, my sis did but I told her I needed to keep going and she could catch up as I hate walking up hills after training on our monster hills at home. By the time we hit the Golden Gate Bridge I was convinced my period was starting and this was not breathing cramps, it was period cramps. I was annoyed but we were still at a pace where we could make my 2:30 goal. I was not only going to finish in the 3 hour time limit, I was going to hit 30 minutes off that! I was ecstatic and ate up the views around me.

Now, anyone that knows me, knows I have a deathlike fear of bridges. It has been like this since I was a child according to my mother. I hate them and think I'm going to die whenever I drive over them. To run over the bridge not once, but TWICE was something I'd been slightly concerned about.  But I had decided I was going to conquer this fear when I signed up for this half marathon. And so we set off. The view was amazing, I cannot even put it into words. I could see all the way to the bay bridge with Alcatraz in between and the beautiful beaches and ocean in between. Pure solitude and beauty. And then my side cramps popped up again. We hit the end of the bridge and I was so thankful to be done, only to be hit by a downhill dirt trail. We had to watch our footing closely on this one as my ankles and feet have survived a 3rd degree ligament sprain and a stress fracture. Then we had to go back up, this time we both walked. And then we had to conquer the bridge all over again much to my dismay. But I said I was not going to be scared and so we ran. A beautiful man was running in front of us and I thought 'wonder if he's single he looks like my nieces age' and then he took off and left us in the dust. I looked over the railing and marveled at the beautiful world God had created and how lucky I was to be experiencing it from this view and kept running. By the end of the bridge my cramps were so bad I could barely breath and then it hit me. I was having anxiety attacks.

I'd not had these since my marriage had hit rock bottom. I use to describe them to my doctor that it felt as if an elephant was sitting on my chest and I could barely squeeze out any air to get into my lungs which would then send shooting pain all along my ribs, lungs and chest. I looked over at my sister and thought, "I do not want to let her down" and decided to just try to keep going. It made perfect sense that I was having anxiety attacks which was causing my breathing to be completely off. The only thing I hadn't trained for was being in the midst of huge crowds (another fear of mine) and running over the ocean on a ginormous bridge. So we kept at it. I had to eventually stop and walk again and my sis was ok but let me know she needed a bathroom soon and we were close to losing our 2:30 pace. By mile 11 my right foot started hurting so bad I felt as if a sledgehammer was pounding on the outside of my foot every time my foot hit the concrete. I asked her if feet hurting beyond belief was normal, she said it was and marathoners just push till the pain doesn't exist anymore. Easy enough, I've given birth 5 times and four of those times without any medication. I can push through the pain or at least conquer it so it doesn't slow me down.

And then, I realized I couldn't. I looked at my watch, I looked at the views, I looked at my sister and then I looked back at all I'd accomplished over the last two years and surrendered to reality. Something was severely off. The pain I was under was only one foot and it was not right. I knew I could not make my 2:30 goal and for the first time in my life, I became ok with accepting what I had previously termed as defeat. But, it wasn't. I was still going to finish. Even if I walked the last 2 miles, i'd still make it well within the 3 hour limit before the course closed down. I was still running a half marathon and no one could ever take that away no matter if I was slower the last two miles. I still was going to do something I'd set my mind to, and I still had enjoyed the process.

And so after another mile, I told my sister to go ahead. I was going to have to walk the rest if I wanted to run the last 1/2 mile to cross that finish line. She let me know i'd miss my time and I said it was ok and off she went. And then I just soaked up the finish and the people around me. There were plenty of walkers and so we started chatting and bantering. Hearing how some people never thought they'd finish. What they'd been through and how much weight loss they'd been through to get here. I kept my story to myself. It was my story, but it wasn't needed to be shared that day because I'd already combated my story. And it no longer hurt to think about it.

I looked around at a city I loved so much, watched my sister run ahead in the distance and I thought, "This is exactly where I am suppose to be, my battle scars are no longer wounds they are healed and closed and I love each and every one because I have found beauty in a life that was almost lost. I am a runner, I am happy and I am me". I started to slowly run down the hill, my endorphins kicking in enough that I could manage the pain and reminded myself what back labor feels like unmedicated. And then a random act of kindness about knocked me on my butt. A man had been walking towards us and saw the exhaustion and fatigue in many of our faces and he looked at the woman beside me and told us to keep going. She responded how she wished they'd cleared the path for us slow people because so many people were walking and getting in our way, I nodded my head in agreement. He paused and looked at both of us, and started slowly running with us. He said, "I'll clear the path for both of you. You've got this, you're almost done". And then he did. At one point I watched as he watched the other runner almost trip and he put his hand on her back as if to guide her and give her strength to finish and a smile warmed my face and heart. THIS is why I love running. We don't always race against each other, sometimes we come back after an exhausting run and we do another quarter mile to help another runner finish. And that gave me the strength to kick it and I thanked them both, wished them luck and hit it.

I looked up to see my friend taking pictures of me and smiled and then I ran under the finish line. I later found out my time was 2:45. I was only 15 minutes off from my goal and I was 100% ok with that, especially the next day after my xray showed that I had managed to get a stress fracture in my 5th metatarsal somewhere during the race. The next part was hard and I had to go to the medic and have them ice and wrap my foot so I could make it to the car and it was a bit of a blur. But I did it.

I said I would run a half marathon years and years ago. It took me a long time to accomplish that goal, but I did it. And I found myself that day. And I gave myself permission to be who I am meant to be and to be safe in my own skin. I'm amazed that I actually did this, without a trainer or a group or a friend to guide me. I did it on my own, with my own sheer determination and stubborn will and body that is capable of amazing things. And I learned, if I can run 13.1 miles over a bridge I'm terrified of and survive an abusive marriage with a BPD man . . .falling in love and following the rest of my dreams are a cake walk. Bring it universe, bring it.

P.S. - I am no longer deathly scared of bridges. Not even a hiccup driving over them anymore  :)