Just Breathe (Mile 1)

Despite living her whole life with cystic fibrosis, Sara wanted to be a normal girl.  This made her an exceptional woman.

I didn't know Sara as well as my brother or some of my best friends (the Hymans), but I always admired Sara.  One week we'd be at her house watching a movie, and the next we'd be dropping in at the hospital to check in on her.   Other than the trips to the hospital, Sara was completely normal.  She liked rock music, wine, fashion, art, sports, and downtown Memphis.  You would never know that she was living (and REALLY living) with an illness such as cystic fibrosis if you did not see her in the hospital.  Rarely would you meet a young person with so much strength.

If there is anything I know about Sara, it is that she did not like being told what she could or could not do (must be something about the name "Sara/h" ;) ).  When she was young, she played softball and other physical activities that was risky for her condition.  As she got older, she insisted on living a "normal" life that may not be expected from someone with her condition.  She had normal friends and normal fun evenings out on the town.  My brother and the Hymans tell a story of when they "kidnapped" her from the hospital and took her out to eat after being told she could not leave.  When it was finally time for Sara to depart from her body, she was not told when or how.  In typical Sara fashion, she called the shots on that too.


I think about Sara often when I think something is too difficult for me.  Before I even thought of sharing my progress on this blog, I would think about Sara if I was on the treadmill and my body wanted to give up.  I learned from Sara that I am the master of my body.  As I mentioned before, she was the initial driving force behind my decision to run.  Running is the thing that I always thought I could not do, and just like Sara, I will make the decision to do it.  My first mile will be in Sara's memory.

On the front of Sara's funeral program was a lovely rendition of Vincent Van Gogh's "Starry Nights" that she painted.  I cut that out and it is now taped to the top of my bathroom mirror so I can look at it every day and remember that, like Sara, I am not a prisoner to my body.  No one, not even myself, can tell me that anything is not possible.

Sara's painting (taped to my mirror)

My view of the painting every day

Sara (far left) and our friends.  This photo was taken before my wedding June 13, 2009.

Running 101 (The Purpose of this Blog)

When my husband was a student at Hendrix College, the entry math requirement was calculus.  There was only one alternative to this requirement--a course called Math in Contemporary Issues.  His calculus professor affectionately referred to this class as "Math for Poets."

I am not, nor have I even been, an athlete.  It speaks to my mother's stubbornness that she ever got my 5-year-old self out of a dress and into my t-ball uniform.  After providing matching hair bows, she probably convinced me that the uniform was simply a costume change.  By the second inning I was in the outfield doing pirouettes and plies.   One of my only memories of my attempted athleticism was during my last season of softball when of my teammate's (Rachel Waggener) grandmother attempted to give me "running lessons" because I skipped from base to base (or realistically, from the mound to first).  Who cared if I was tagged "out" as long as I looked fabulous doing it?

It was not long after the grandmother-running-coach incident that I happily realized my talents were better applied elsewhere.  I was relieved of my duties of softball halftime entertainment (which I was shocked to find out doesn't actually exist) and became even more involved in community theater, dance lessons, piano lessons, drawing, and other artistic endeavors.  While my friends continued on with softball, track, and cheerleading, I chose the path of least physical resistance--activities such as band, choir, art, and creative writing.

I went fifteen years without a single attempt at a sport (that is, if you don't count dancing and 4" stiletto stair-climbing sports).

It was my friend Sara that got me to run my first steps in... well, very literally ever.  Sara lived with cystic fibrosis.  However, Sara was never defined by her condition.  She was the living representation of one of favorite quotes by C.S. Lewis-- "You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body."  She understood that, and helped others to understand that as well.  She was not her body.

Sara got sick for the last time in October.  Up until then, I was toying with the idea of becoming healthier (spending 20 minutes on an elliptical twice a week).  One day I was particularly overwhelmed with Sara's failing health and decided to push myself harder than normal.  I was never capable of running, so I tried a treadmill.  I made it roughly the equivalent of a city block before I was winded.  Two days later, I was back.  And I came again.  Through the advice and encouragement of wonderful friends (Shanna Jones, Megan Ross, my dear husband Matt, and many others), I have increased my running to over five consecutive miles.

On March 6th I am running in the Little Rock half-marathon.  Out of all the goals in my life, this is by far the most difficult (and unnatural) I have attempted.  However, it will be impossible for me if I am running for sport's sake.  I have decided to dedicate each mile of the 13.1 miles to someone whose body is no longer with us but have taught me valuable lessons about living.  Check back as I post stories about each of these people.

The purpose of this blog is two fold.  First, I am seeking support and accountability as I attempt this crazy challenge.  But most importantly, I hope that my stories are an inspiration or a comfort to you wherever you are in your life's journey.  

"O death, where is thy victory? O grave, where is thy sting?"