Staying active and more specifically running is one of the biggest things in my life; even though I am way slower than I used to be, and no matter how much I get slower as I get 'old' I have always known it would be a part of my life. Just the sheer joy it gives me, and the sense of accomplishment I feel afterward is unparalleled. Of course when I was competing and doing tons of track workouts I would get so nervous before, I always wanted to give my absolute best; to be completely spent at the end. Knowing that I left it all out on the track really is a feeling that I can't really compare to anything else to, a sort of high all its own, and I'm sure plenty of other athletes can relate. Yes, many long distance runners may dream of entering that zone for those 25 lap races and then still find some extra gear to tap into come the end where one can wind up surprising even themselves. While we may hope to only be so lucky as to be blessed with one of 'those days' where everything falls into place each time we toe the line and you just can't believe what you, your own body is doing, the fact is that this is in essence quite a rarity; however, all runners that do slip into such a trance can vividly recall their own special days. But even despite being both far a few between and at times seemingly completely unpredictable it is the nature of the beast and that in and of itself possesses a certain kind of lore that brings us coming back for more and trying again. Testing our own limits is the only way to achieve your goals but yes, there is still the risk of falling short; however that only means you must be all the more motivated next time and forge onward.

Still,this it's only true with runners alone, not at all, but that's where I have personal experience; and I can assume cyclists, swimmers, and other athletes will have their own sort of reminiscences after that big moment where everything feels surreal. So yes, even if I'm way slow, like I often say, I still run for not only the fun of it, but I swear it also keeps me sane! Oh, and being able to dig into those Ben & Jerry's pints sans guild is always a big plus.

I bring this up, in that running is part of my being, not all of it of course, but a large chunk. It is no longer my 'identity' or anything of that manner in that I'm not any runner of note, but it still holds a very dear place in my heart and life. I used to always joke that if something happened in that I lost my legs or couldn't run ever again, I'd rather just end it all. Yes, that is a bit extreme, and I don't REALLY mean that, but my life void of running is a darker one.

Today I am facing this very potential fate. I was out running on the road on Thursday and was struck by a car. I flew into the air, it was all going in that kind of slow motion reel you always see in movies or hear about in stories and I distinctly remember thinking, "Gee, my leg sure feels funny." But my sense of positioning and bearings was all turned around, I didn't know which way I was being thrown, and I figured, as my butt and thighs scarped the pavement that I would be no doubt hurting from all that road rash, but I'd be okay.

That changed the second I looked down at the 'funny' feeling in my leg. I could see both the tibia and fibula sticking horrendously out of my skin, (the EMT later estimated it at about 8 inches) and from what I saw it appeared the only thing keeping my leg together as a single piece was a few inches of disturbingly twisted calf muscle. One look at my mangled leg was more than enough for me, and for some crazy reason that seems to defy all logic I had landed in a sitting position not splayed out on my back, so I turned my head around and looked back to the driver who had hit me. We locked eyes; I know I must have looked pathetic and pleading, but he then rather calmly steered around me like I was a piece of litter in the road and went on his way. I was then even more terrified as I felt alone and stuck, left to bleed to death on the ground.

I saw another car stop; I believe he thought I was most definitely dead, as he said so from the angle he watched me fly up and then down, and I think he was reaching for his phone to call the sheriff, but I screamed, "Help, help me!" Was that shrill voice mine? I know I have a high voice, but the tremble and edge was startling; it all felt so surreal. I literally had left my house about 7 minute ago, my watch was still running, how could I have ended up here?

The man, then realizing I needed support, not just physically, held me in his arms as more and more people rushed out of their cars to the scene. They weren't rubber neckers, however, they were there to help. The man still holding me, now fragile in body and mind, told me it would be okay; yet I knew he was still scared and his praying for God to take care of and protect me not only touched me but did take the seriousness of the whole ordeal to a new level.

I then started to feel the pain of my gaping wound; and it was not only my leg but I felt as if my heart had been fractured too. Without my running I knew I was still ME but not the ME that I had always known or one that I necessarily ever wanted to meet. I won't go into a pity party for myself; instead I just need to take it one day at a time. Yes, the leg is very bad, I had my first surgery and will require more; exactly how many more is still yet to be determined. But I do believe that if it is in any way possible to get back my running one day I will find a way.

I am determined, and while I won't even be able to put an ounce of weight on the leg right now, having had the first steel rod and screw inserted, and am awaiting more hardware to come later, I need to hold onto that hope. My tibia and fibula not only sliced through the skin, but a vital tendon used for flexion, and I am missing a sizable chunk of bone from my shin; I guess that can be a little memento left out on Walker Road. I did not intend for this blog to include something so personal as a hopeful recovery that may one day perhaps bring me back into the safety and joy I feel with running, at any pace for that matter, but I feel it may be healing for my own self to at least chronicle this road I am on. Just as one never knows upon the starting of a race how you will finish once the gun goes off, I must at least bravely show up to the line, give absolutely everything I have, and believe that I will at least finish without any regrets...give it my all.

I have trouble writing for extended periods of time due to the meds, i think I read and reread the same sentences multiple times before they stopped being blurry and just black pixels on the screen, so it's a wonder I've made it this far, so I think a little video updating will be best. I hope are all healthy and happy, and most importantly be grateful for even the little things...today I used the geriatric walker to shuffle down the hall and back about as slow as an old man but yesterday I could only slide sideways into a chair. As Bill Murray was famously instructed, "Baby steps, baby steps."

So my stupid flip movie thing is refusing to download my stuff, I will have to consult my techie bro to help me tomorrow...sorry, but i'm getting sleeeeeeeeeeeepy