I’m enjoying a few days of relaxing before doing a half-marathon at Disney on Sunday. I’m at my friend Bev’s house! (She’s the Bev in Because I Can) On Wednesday morning, I left PA with Bev and her 8-year old son. Hours later we met up with a Virginia friend, Janelle and her 8-year old son. We drove until almost 9 that evening before stopping in Georgia for the night. My legs were in dire need of some moving, so I jumped in the pool and swam a few laps before going to bed.

On Thursday, we completed the drive from Savannah to Kissimmee with a stop at the Orlando airport to pick up another friend, Deborah, who is also running Disney on Sunday.

I have three sons (ages 19, 21 and 23) and it’s been a while since they were 8, so I worried wondered how traveling with two little guys would be. No need to worry about these guys—they are champion travelers!

Bennet and Micah

The only hitch so far was when I was watching them at the pool in the morning before we hit the road again. They almost gave me a heart attack. I was on the lounge chair watching them swim, float and be silly. Suddenly I was off the chair, my shoes were off and I was poolside. The one guy was drowning… or pretending to drown… or he was drowning… or pretending…

For a few seconds, I couldn’t figure out which it was and he wasn’t helping by bobbing up and down, saying help… but then smiling before he disappeared under again. After an hour, a few seconds, he swam to the side… and all was well, except for my racing heart.

But they are both so darn cute, I couldn’t even be mad at them. They are just too full of energy and I love seeing them have fun. But I did remind them about The Boy Who Cried Wolf… my heart has already survived a major trauma, it has no need for any more scares.

Today is about relaxing and going for a walk to stretch our legs to keep them limber for Sunday. Then an afternoon airport run to pick up four more friends coming in to run Disney also. After that we’ll go to the race Expo to check it out and pick up our race numbers.

Saturday involves more relaxing in the morning… then meeting up with other bloggers/runners at the Princess Blogger Meet-up at 3pm. (I’m giving away two paperback copies of Because I Can there!)

Then Sunday at freaking early o’clock I (along with 7 friends and about 19,993 friends I haven’t met yet) will do a half-marathon. (The race starts at 5:45 so we have to be up by 3 to get to the start line on time)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since I’m having all this fun, I want to share it with everyone. Come join the party!
(Okay, not really… Bev would kill me if I try to fit more people into her house)

So here’s my sharing-the-fun gift for you… all the e-versions of Because I Can are on sale!

Because I Can is only $2.99 on Kindle, Nook and iPad!

Click the links above to go to Kindle or Nook.
For iPad—go to iTunes and search for Because I Can, Janet Oberholtzer

If you don’t have an e-reader, get a Kindle app for your computer and/or smart phone free.
Yes, free! Then you can buy the Kindle version and read it on your computer or phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m going to try and live-blog this weekend as much as possible, plus I’ll be posting pictures on Facebook on my page and on the Because I Can page. (If we aren’t FB friends, send me a request and/or like the Because I Can FB page)

I’m off to have a great Friday… hope you do to!

There’s an interesting story circulating online. It’s about how 1,100 people hurried past a man playing Bach on a violin in a 45-minute period during rush hour in Washington DC’s metro station. A few mothers pulled curious, dawdling children along.  A few thrust money at him and continued to walk.  A few stopped for a minute or two, looked at their watches, and continued to hurry on.

The “surprise” was that the man turned out to be the world famous violinist, Joshua Bell, whose concert a few nights before had cost an average of $100 a seat. The writer challenges the readers to question the fact that if we don’t recognize a famous violinist  playing some of the best music ever… what else are we missing? 

Joshua Bell at the subway station

Reading the story reminded me of Joni Mitchell’s song “Real Good for Free”. It’s about a clarinet player on a New York City street. “Nobody stopped to hear him, though he played so sweet and high. They knew he had never been on their TV, so they passed his music by”,  she laments. She sings on about how she meant to go ask for a song or even harmonize with the musician, but the light changed, so she too went on her way.

Next, I remembered another e-mail. It was an item in one of those laugh-a-minute type lists. It described a man placing a furniture item outside along with a sign that read “free”.  A  week went by and there were no takers. He changed the sign to read “$25. Inquire within”.  It promptly got stolen.

The story, the song, and the “hoot” item all point to the sad fact that we as a society seem to add more value to things that have a recognizable name, a high price tag, or in the case of the used furniture, any price tag. We seem to think that if something is free or unknown, it can’t be good.

People who make high salaries command respect, regardless of how that money is attained. We worship celebrities in spite of knowing about their dubious life choices. It shows that we have a distorted sense of what is beautiful or worthwhile, who or what deserves our time and attention, admiration or respect. I remember once reading a newspaper article that reported interviews with school-aged children, who confessed that the reason they didn’t respect their teachers was partially because they didn’t make as much as their parents! It’s sad if we pass these lessons on to our children.

And how much of this emphasis on prestige is contributing to our stress, causing us to be so rushed we don’t see the things around us? 

Surely we stop and think when we read the metro story and hear songs like “Real Good for Free”,  but how much are we in a position to change? Most of us have jobs, having to report in at definite times. We arrive at the workplace, and are expected to accomplish a list of tasks within a given amount of time. There are deadlines to meet; the clock is ticking. People simply don’t have the luxury of stopping to smell the proverbial roses. Anyone who looks through classified ads sees ad after ad that includes “fast-paced”  in the job description. Try finding one that is not “fast-paced”!

Would the outcome have been any different had the rush hour crowd realized they were hearing a world famous violinist? Would they have risked missing their trains and being late for work? In either case, how understanding would their bosses be had they missed their trains, come in late, and said “Oh, sorry (boss) . This guy was playing awesome music in the train station and I just had to stop and listen”. Would the violinist’s status, world famous or an amateur, made a difference in the boss’s attitude about the late employee?

Unless we look for ways to minimize the pressures, some imposed from outside, some self imposed, we are forced to keep running at an insane pace in the proverbial rat race. We will continue to miss beautiful music, art, dawns, sunsets, flowers, and at the other end, people in need, while rushing to do what we have to do to maintain a “good life”… whatever that means.

I suppose when an experiment like this (I am assuming the Metro scenario was an experiment), sheds some light on how we have been spending so much time rushing, passing beautiful things by, we have to ask ourselves if the things we are pursuing are really making us happy, and revisit the question….how much are we missing?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Susan Ford

Susan is retired and enjoys spending time with her six adult kids, her grandkids and friends. Her hobbies include reading, Bible studies and a little gardening. Before and after raising her children, Susan worked with mentally disabled adults, as a substitute teacher, Therapeutic support person and did some clerical work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for the post, Susan. I’ve learned a lot about slowing down and appreciating life, but I know I have so much more to learn. And reading this now is perfect, because it’s helping me remember to savor the moments and the sights as I travel.

Your turn: I’d love to hear tips about how others have learned to pause and appreciate things in life for their own beauty, not because someone says they are valuable or worth more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How many days can one wear only a blue-with-gray or a gray-with-blue hospital gown?

I was tired of my limited clothing choices. I asked about wearing my own clothes again. The therapist said it would be hard to maneuver my legs into pants or shorts, but I might be able to wear them soon.

I took that for a yes and asked Jerry where my clothes were.

That’s when I heard the story of Jerry and my dad going to the wrecked motorhome to collect our things during the first week after the accident. My condition was still unpredictable then and Jerry couldn’t focus on the task. They only got the boys’ clothes and a few other items.

When I realized my clothes were still in the motorhome, I began asking about other things. The schoolbooks. My books. My journal. Jerry also realized how many things he didn’t get.

After a few calls, Jerry located the motorhome at a junkyard. He was thankful that his brother and my brother-in-law were visiting at the time and could help collect our belongings. When they finished collecting our books, supplies, tools, games and lawn chairs they had two pallets full of boxes, along with our bikes. They stacked everything in a storage unit until it could be transferred to Pennsylvania.

When they came back to the hospital, I was disappointed to hear that some of the drawers that held my clothes were jammed and couldn’t be opened. I tried to avoid the rest of the conversations about the condition of the motorhome. But I overheard one of them say that other than the front passenger corner, you wouldn’t know that it was wrecked — the rest of it looked okay.

Looks okay? What the…! How can any of it be okay when none of me is okay?!

That evening it was time for our visiting family’s cross-country flight back home. I was worried about both their long flight and Jerry driving to the airport and back. After they left, I tried to pray. In reality, I spent most of the time trying to remember all the statistics that say flying is safe.

It took Jerry about two hours to do the airport run. I called a few times (okay, often) and he could tell I needed him, so even though it was after 10PM he stopped at the hospital before he went to his house. He sat on the edge of the bed and held me (as much as that was possible) until I calmed down and was able to sleep.

Being paranoid, wondering about brain damage, missing normalcy and concerns for the future occupied my mind more frequently. I had another reduction in meds, which meant I had more mental clarity. Some nights, after Jerry left the hospital, exhaustion won and I slept. But other times, the whirl of activity in my mind overwhelmed me as I was forced to look at my new reality.

In vain I tried to wrap my brain around the changes that happened.

For the previous six months, I told Jerry to point the motorhome in a new direction each week. Now I was forced to stay in the same place day after day. I went from sleeping late most days, to being awakened by a voice at 5AM saying, “Hi, I’m from the blood lab and I’m here to draw blood.”

Instead of trying different types of food from a new neighborhood each week, I had cans of Boost the hospital’s caring dietitian gave me because she was concerned I wasn’t eating enough. I went from running and skiing to transferring my body with my hands. I’d been living in less than three hundred square feet with my boys, now I was three thousand miles away from them. I went from thanking God to having questions for God.

That is — if God was even real. Old doubts and questions resurfaced. Religion and God had been a part of life from the day I was born, but not always in a good way. As a child I was scared of God, due to my stern ruled-based upbringing in a strict traditional Mennonite home with many rules—only certain clothes could be worn, no jewelry, no radio and no TV. While some of this simplified way of life was good, too much of it focused on following rules.

All those rules didn’t work for me, an inquisitive child that constantly asked “why?” 

I rebelled during my teen years when my questions became actions and I pushed the boundaries. I not only rebelled against the rules of my parents and their church, but also against God. Some portions of the Bible talked about God being love, but I only saw him as harsh and judgmental. So this conflict caused me to wonder if God really existed … and if he did, what was he like?

So as I lay in the hospital trying to grasp my new reality, some of my old questions about God existing (or not) came back.

………………….

A day or two later as I slept after being discouraged from an exhausting medial procedure… Jerry remembered my wish for something other than the fashionable hospital gowns to wear and he took this time to go shopping. (Smart man)

Real clothes! About 5 weeks post-accident

I woke up to see sport shorts and a tee shirt on the chair beside my bed. It was an odd touch of normalcy—shorts and tees were familiar, but Jerry buying them for me was not. Jerry’s plan worked, it cheered me up to see them. I was almost giddy as I began changing into them, but it was more of a challenge than I thought it would be. Jerry had to help me maneuver my legs into the shorts, but it felt good to wear something other than a gown.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What is the longest that you’ve had to wear the same clothes? 
Have you every questioned whether or not God is real? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thankfully, I had a reduction in meds and some information that was a blur before started to find a home. One day when the door of my room opened, I was happy to see a familiar face. “Dr. Tran.” I recognized the surgeon who preformed the 10-hour limb-saving surgery on my left calf. I’d seen him a few times since surgery when he came in to check my progress.

“Hi Janet, you’re awake today. Good. It’s time to change your dressing again,” he said. “We’ll do it tomorrow.”

“What time will I go to the OR?” I asked, knowing that his previous dressing changes were done there and thinking about my new best friend—the black mask.

“No OR this time. We’ll do it right here,” He responded.

My small room suddenly felt even smaller and the walls threatened to fall on me. I didn’t have a clear idea about the size or the look of my wound, but I knew enough by conversations I overheard and the large dressing that it was huge, always bleeding and would not be pleasant looking.

As politely as I could in my apprehensive state of mind, I asked him to please take me to the OR to do it.

“You’ll be fine,” He reassured me. “We’ll give you extra painkillers through IV and a sedative to relax you.”

“It’s not just the pain I’m worried about. I don’t want to see the wound on my leg.” I told him. “I don’t think I can handle it.”

Dr. Tran, an excellent surgeon and forthright gentleman from Vietnam, informed me, “It’s your leg. You have to see it sometime. It’s reality. Why not now?”

I respected him as a surgeon, but not as a gentle counselor and I had no desire to see any part of that wound with the dressing off. When Chaplain Margery came in later, she found me in tears. She prayed for me and promised to come back in the morning before the procedure.

It was a long night and yet it wasn’t long enough. I didn’t want morning to come. It meant facing a reality I had been trying to avoid.

Morning came. And with it the dreaded procedure. A few nurses bustled in and out of the room making sure they had the ton of fresh dressing materials that were needed. Seeing all the supplies made me shudder. I want a black mask!

Thankfully my nurse came in before Dr. Tran and gave me the meds. Oh beautiful meds, I love you!

The pillow fortress was put in place a second after this picture was taken

Jerry agreed with me that I shouldn’t look at the wound. I lowered my bed so I was lying flat and he securely planted a big pillow across my upper body. I tried to relax and think of other things, which was impossible, but I tried.

When Dr. Tran came in, he chuckled at my pillow, “Guess you were serious. You really don’t want to see it.”

“That’s right.” I said from behind my pillow fortress.

Jerry stood next to me holding my hand and cautiously watched the process. Watching his face cycle through concern, shock and distress as the dressings came off, I knew that pillow wasn’t going to be moved an inch.

Dr. Tran pointed out areas of the wound to Jerry. “See, here is the muscle we took from her back. This is the skin from her thigh, here is the ….” That conversation wasn’t working for me and I tried to block it out.

When he was finished, I was exhausted from the process and the additional meds. I promptly fell asleep and slept for hours. My room was empty when I woke up. I had a nauseous feeling of dread. I felt like I was slipping into that dark unknown hole I had been avoiding. I shuddered as I remembered Jerry’s face. That wound must be nasty!

Between the two of us, Jerry is more of a nurse than I am. I don’t faint when I see blood, but I don’t like it either. When our boys were little, they knew to go to ‘Dr. Jerry’ when they got hurt. He would gently clean and bandage their injuries.

So I knew by the look on his face that wound was beyond anything he’d seen before or even imagined. I peeped into that dark hole. What if it doesn’t heal? What if I can’t walk?!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Jerry came in as I talked with the nurse. “Good morning sweetie,” he said with a big smile.

“Hi. Why are you so happy?”  I wondered.

He seemed surprised at my question,
“Because you’re doing so well. You’re awake and talking.”

First day out of my hospital bed - Henry Mayo Hospital - Valencia, CA

This baffled me. “I’ve been talking since I was two. Why is that a big deal?”

“I missed hearing you talk when you were out of it.” He kissed my cheek.

“Out of it? What do you mean?” I knew I slept all the time, but I didn’t know what he meant by out of it.

“You’ve been out of it since the accident—almost two weeks,” he said.

“ Two weeks? Are you sure?” I looked at the nurse, thinking she’d correct him.

She nodded, “Yes, it’s been that long since your accident.”

“And you’ve been out of it ever since,” Jerry said.

“Out of it,” I repeated. “Why? Why didn’t I wake up before?”

The nurse finished her work and gave Jerry advice on her way out. “She’s awake enough now. You can answer her questions.”

I didn’t understand why she said that to him, but I ignored it and went back to my question. “Why was I out of it for so long?”

“You didn’t wake up before because they had to keep you in a medical coma,” he began.

“Why didn’t they want me awake?” I interrupted. It felt like I was held against my will. 

“So your body could handle the trauma and all the injuries. But you’re getting better. You’re awake and talking,” he smiled again.

“So I was out of it for a long time?” I repeated that confusing thought like a toddler would do.

Yes, you were. And I was so scared when they didn’t know if you would live.”

“What? Not live?” My brain whirled.

“Yes, you almost died and …” he realized this was news to me. “But you didn’t and you’re doing so much better now.”

“Died?” I was baffled. “I almost died? Are you sure?”

He nodded slowly, realizing he might have given me more information than I was ready for. He switched back to happy thoughts. “But now you’re improving and doing better.”

To find out I almost died was so foreign I didn’t know what to do with it. It felt like we were talking about someone else. My brain was sluggish, so I had a hard time following, much less believing, what he said. But I needed to know. I forced my fuzzy thoughts into words, “Why did I almost die? What happened?”

He studied me a little.

“What happened?” I repeated.

“We were in an accident with five trucks and you have many injuries,” he pointed to my legs, “and you lost blood—almost too much blood.”

“Why did I lose so much blood?”

“From all your injuries—your pelvis is shattered, your left leg has two big injuries and they had to put a rod in your right femur and …”

I stopped listening and wanted to scream, I have all those injuries—what? And what do you mean a rod in my leg? How could they do that to me without my permission?!”

My mind tried to make sense of this odd conversation. I felt like I was being forced to look into an unknown dark hole. I had vaguely sensed this hole existed, but until then I had avoided looking into it. This dark hole was filled with information and things I didn’t want to know. My mind scrambled, looking for something to get me out of that moment. I want to go back to the motorhome and our trip!

Seeing my confused face, Jerry tried to reassure me, “It’s okay. You survived. You’re doing good. You handled the surgeries well and are recovering better than the doctors thought you might.”

“Surgeries? I had surgeries. How many?” I closed my eyes before he could answer. I really didn’t want to know. I had already heard more than I could handle. I was glad he answered my questions, but I was also thankful he knew when enough was enough.

As I drifted into an exhausted sleep, I realized that our trip around the country definitely was over, but a very different journey was beginning. Somewhere within me I whispered, “I want to become better, not bitter during this journey.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Have you ever heard any news that was too hard for you to comprehend at first?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m sorry I don’t have better news.” Dr. Hinika’s voice interrupted Jerry’s panicked thoughts.

Jerry’s mind was swirling. He couldn’t believe he was in an ICU waiting room hearing this devastating news about me. “Will … will she live?”

Dr. Hinika placed his hand on Jerry’s shoulder.  “I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see. I’m sorry.”

Jerry tried to breathe.

“We are doing all we can.” Dr. Hinika continued. “If you want to, you can see her now.”

“Yes, I want to,” Jerry almost shouted.

Medical Coma ... May 20 to May 31, 2004

“She doesn’t look like herself. She’s lying there motionless with her eyes closed. She’s in a medically-induced coma. She has a breathing tube in her mouth and other tubes and wires all over. Are you sure you want to see her like that?”

“Yes I want to see her.” Jerry was sure that he needed to see me. “I’ll be okay.”

Jerry was escorted to my room. He tried to look beyond the tubes and wires that filled his vision to see my face. He thought he prepared himself for what I might look like, but he had failed.

Janet, that’s Janet? He didn’t even recognize me. The tape holding the breathing tube covered my mouth and surrounding area. The rest of my face was swollen beyond recognition. He wished my eyes would open, maybe then he’d recognize me. But I didn’t move at all, not even an eyelid. He was glad he had not brought the boys in.

He watched my chest fall and rise. She’s breathing, she’s alive. Well, at least with the ventilator, she’s alive. He looked at my face again, still baffled at the unfamiliar look.

The nurse nearby checked a beeping monitor.

“Why does she look so different?” he asked.

“The fluids we give her cause her face and her whole body to swell. Also, though she has no facial or head trauma, the severe trauma to the rest of her body causes inflammation everywhere.”

“Does she know anything? Can she hear?” Jerry wanted a connection with this woman that he was trying to convince himself was me.

“You can talk to her. She will probably hear you, but she won’t respond. The medications keep her sedated and calm, which is important right now, with all her injuries.”

Hearing the nurse mention my injuries, Jerry’s eyes moved to my legs, especially the left one. A sheet covered me, so he couldn’t see anything unusual about the left leg. But he was surprised to see a metal apparatus on my right thigh.

“What is that?”

“Her femur is shattered and they use that to hold it in place temporarily until they determine how to best stabilize it.”

Jerry studied my face again — willing the woman on the bed to move or do something.

Nothing.

There was no movement. Monitors beeped. Blood dripped into me. The ventilator hummed. Something clicked rhythmically. Nurses worked around him. Feet shuffled in the hallway.

…

Because I Can - Table of Contents

Ways to Stay Healthy After Age 40

After age 40, many people start to notice differences in their physical health. If you are not already maintaining a healthy lifestyle, incorporating these tips into your daily life will help you live longer, healthier, and happier. Diet, exercise, and medical check-ups are all important parts of staying healthy well past your 40th birthday.

1. Aerobic Exercise – Exercises like walking, jogging, cycling, or other aerobic activities help burn stored body fat, which is increasingly important with age when your metabolism slows down. It can also reduce your risk of developing chronic diseases that can be debilitating later in life. You should do aerobic exercise three to five days a week for 20-30 minutes, depending on the intensity.

2. Strength Training – Our bodies begin losing muscle mass around age 30 without a training program. Strength training, which can be done with free weights, resistance bands, or other strength-training equipment, should be done two or three days a week. This type of exercise helps your muscles retain mass and strength and keeps your bones healthy.

3. Stretch – Stretching has a number of health benefits. It helps you keep your flexibility, which helps range of motion and reduces the risk of injury. Stretching muscles after aerobic workouts will also keep you from being as sore afterwards. You can also stretch through activities such as yoga and tai chi. Make sure you hold your stretches between 10 to 30 seconds without any jerking motions.

4. Chill Out – Stress and anxiety can cause a number of health problems such as cardiovascular disease, diabetes, and obesity. Healthy ways to manage stress include walking, meditating, or even napping. Almost any type of exercise is a great way to relieve stress, since physical activity produces endorphins in the brain that make us feel good.

5. Drink Water – After the age of 30, the water content in the body drops, especially in the blood, muscles, and fatty tissues. Even a drop of one percent can increase one’s risk of developing health problems such as high blood pressure and urinary tract infections. You should have between 10 to 16 cups of water a day, depending on your size and activity level. However, this can include water in a number of beverages and even juicy fruits like apples.

6. Eat Healthy – A healthy diet is an important part of a long, healthy life. You diet should have a balance of protein, carbohydrates, dairy, and fiber with lots of vitamins and minerals. Try to eat foods with whole grains, unsaturated fats, and low sodium contents.

7. Medical Testing – After age 40, you are more at risk to develop certain health conditions and diseases. Make sure to have regular medical check-ups along with screenings for heart disease, cancer, hormone imbalances, or any diseases common in your family. Early detection through these tests is often the key to preventing further complications later on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Do you have any additional tips to help us live well in our forties and beyond?

If you or someone you know is interested in getting an advanced degree in the nursing field, check out Erin’s site, Masters of Nursing for information.

I love YOU… my readers.
I love connecting with others through blogging.
I love the writing practice blogging has given me.
I love the wonderful network of friends, writers and others I’ve gained through blogging.
I love how blogging introduced me to Twitter, which introduced me to Rhizome, who published Because I Can.

But sometimes I get tired of feeding the blog.

I get tired of the routine of posting regularly.
I get tired of thinking about what to write about each week.
I get tired of feeling like I’m expected to write about this or that.

Plus I’m going to be traveling for a few weeks soon (Yes! Headed to FL to run the Princess Half-Marathon at Disney, do a few speaking gigs and to sit my butt on the beach and read/relax.)

So I’d like to share my blog with YOU!

Yes, you… my readers and other folks. Whether you think of yourself as a writer or not. Whether you’ve written 1000 blogs posts or 0 blog posts.

Let me know if you are interested in writing something… anything to do with a body, mind and/or spirit issue (which pretty much covers all of life)

So for the next few weeks, I will continue to post excerpts from Because I Can, along with a guest post or two.

Email me at JanetOberholtzer@gmail.com.

Peace!

My vitals told them I was losing blood fast — too fast. Pressing lightly on my abdomen and feeling the resistance, Jose knew I was bleeding internally. He started another IV to give me more saline. The volume of liquid in my body had to stay high enough, so that my heart had something to pump or I was in danger of going into heart failure. Jose squeezed the bag of saline to force it into me faster. Seeing that, Jerry ducked under the dangling ceiling panel and took the bag of saline from Jose, freeing him to focus more directly on me.

Jerry was glad to be doing something to directly help me, but seeing my skin color fade and watching the rising concern of the paramedics was almost more than he could take.

“What’s your name?” Jose asked again.

This time there was no answer from me.

Jerry’s heart fell.

Outside, the paramedics were using a Jaws of Life tool and a saw to cut away debris. They determined the easiest way to remove me was to cut a hole in the motorhome under the window where I was sitting.

May 20, 2004... On Route 5, north of Los Angeles

During the thirty-five minutes since impact, my vitals had gone from bad to worse. My breathing faltered more. My skin paled drastically.

Jose saw that I was nearing heart failure.

“We need to get her out of here! NOW!”

They removed the final pieces of debris pinning my legs. Jose gasped when he saw the mangled mess, especially my left leg. He wondered if there was any way to save it. They placed me into the waiting helicopter, while Jose did all he could to stabilize my condition. But with my weak vitals, he assumed I wouldn’t arrive at the hospital alive.

…

As I had I slipped into unconsciousness during the extraction, Jerry began to realize the severity of my injuries. As the boys watched me disappear into the sky via the helicopter, Jerry found the cell phone. He climbed down the ladder and ran to the back of the motorhome to unhook the Jeep. To his dismay, it was also wrecked. The jar of the impact bent one of the tow bars, causing the Jeep to run into the back of the motorhome.

Jerry ran over to a police officer. “I need to go to the hospital now!”

“In a minute,” the officer replied.

“What do you mean, in a minute? I want to go now!” Jerry couldn’t believe what he heard.

“I have a few questions for you.” The officer calmly began asking Jerry facts about the accident. “What was your speed? Which lane were you in?”

Jerry took a deep breath, realizing that the faster he answered, the sooner they would leave. When finished, the officer said that he needed to complete his report before he could leave. Jerry and the boys had no choice but to sit on the side of the road and wait.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the officer was ready to go. Any hope Jerry had of my situation not being serious was quickly dashed in the police car when the officer took a phone call.

“He’s with me. We’re on our way.”

Jerry strained to hear the officer’s conversation.

“Yes, the boys are also with me. I’ll get them there as soon as I can.”

Jerry hardly allowed himself to think about why they wanted him and the boys there immediately.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Excerpt from the Prologue

I’ve always seen New Year’s Day as a day to wipe the slate clean and start over. That year was no different, so I went for a walk to process my life. Sometime during that walk, I decided I would try running for one year. I knew myself well enough to know that I’m great at starting things, but not always good at completing them, so I set some goals.

I had read a few running magazines, so I knew if I ran regularly, I should be able to increase my running distance by one mile each month. Looking up at the dreary, cold, gray sky, I made a promise that I would try my best to be able to run ten miles in one year — New Year’s Day 1995.

I was both thrilled and scared as I walked back into the house. Would I be able to do it?

Slowly over the next few weeks, I went on walks whenever I could. I occasionally tried running for a short distance. Doing that convinced me I was not a runner — it was too hard. But despite that something kept me going out the door a few times a week.

In February, on a long, gradual downhill, I ran half a mile for the first time. Yes, I ran down, not up — I wasn’t into making it harder than it already was. While running, I felt a sense of peace and purpose like I’d not felt before. That feeling pulled me out the door every few days for a run.

By June, I was running three or four miles at a time, but then my knee started hurting and I couldn’t run for a time. I walked instead of ran for a few weeks until it felt better, then slowly increased my running again.

By the time fall blew in, I was enjoying running. I even started calling myself a runner. It was vital part of my life and I realized running was much more than physical exercise for me. It was also therapy for my mind and spirit.

Early December found me completing a nine-mile run. I don’t like cold weather, but the anticipation of reaching my goal pulled me out the door regularly even as the weather turned colder. After checking the forecast for New Year’s Day, I decided to do the ten-mile run on December 31st as I had no desire to run in the rain and sleet predicted for January 1st.

It was a Saturday, so Jerry was home and after the boys were settled in for their afternoon naps, I headed out the door. It was an overcast, dreary day with the temperate around freezing. It was an uneventful run, one step at a time.

An hour and a half later, I was back home. Jerry had decided he needed a nap with the boys, so I came home to a quiet house. The sense of accomplishment was very fulfilling — though I could have used a cheering crowd, ribbons and confetti.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you are a runner, when and how did you start running?
If not a runner, tell us about a starting point for something else that is important to you.