Grandma’s Marathon

*that’s me!  nice socks : )  i think my dad took this photo.

When I was a kid, volunteering for Grandma’s Marathon in my home town of Duluth, MN was absolutely the highlight of my summer. My parents were the captains of the 8 mile station for many years and the marathon was simply part of our life. I loved everything about it. I loved helping my dad make “Water” signs, opening the big boxes of bright red volunteer shirts, passing out water to all the runners and the party at the finish line. I loved that all of our friends and family came year after year and worked together to support the amazing athletes. It was tradition.

On June 21, 1986 when I was 8 years old I was hit by a van while volunteering at our 8 mile station. Just before the start of the race, the driver somehow found his way onto the course and headed down the road toward our station. I was bringing bags of cups from one side of the course to the other when I looked up and saw the van. As I turned to run out of the way, I tripped and fell. Never seeing me, the van ran over my right leg breaking both bones and crushing my heel. Over the years, I’ve had 13 surgeries to repair the injuries to my right leg and foot.

This is the 25 year anniversary of my accident at Grandma’s, and I’m heading back to Duluth with my husband and sister this weekend to run the half marathon!

Being able to run in this half marathon is such a huge milestone for me. Doctors said that by 30 years old I would have severe arthritis in my foot and ankle. I wouldn’t be an athlete. Long-distance running would be out of the question. But, now I’m 33, I don’t have any signs of arthritis, this will be my third half marathon and my feet happily carry me 13.1 miles without too many complaints. I feel better than ever and healed in so many ways. Never did I imagine that this would be part of the story. I feel so proud.

As I’ve been training, I’ve looked back on all the years I spent with my family and friends volunteering and being a part of the Grandma’s Marathon. I have so many wonderful and funny memories. I think of the first year I was FINALLY old enough to pass out the “special” drinks for the elite runners – concoctions they made with decorated bottles so they would know which was theirs. I took special care of those bottles and felt so important when I handed them out. I think of the year I ate too many doughnuts and spent the day throwing up outside of the car and was so mad that I missed the whole race. I think of when I was a teenager and brought all my friends for the first time. They stared in admiration at our friend Steve who cracked his first beer of the day around 6:00AM. My memories of Grandma’s are so much more than my accident, they are filled with friends, family and a magical sense of community.

The accident shaped nearly every aspect of my life and taught me about the importance of community. It also taught me about coping with adversity, believing in myself and about forgiveness. And I am so thankful for those gifts.

This weekend will be a celebration and filled with gratitude for my family, friends, and health as I run. As difficult as things were throughout the years, these last few months of looking back and remembering have really struck me. I haven’t felt sad. I haven’t felt mad. And, I haven’t wished things could have been different. It all made me who I am and I will continue to live feeling grateful for all I have.

Wish me luck!