What it's really all about

2013 was the hardest year of my life.  I spent the close of the year in the darkest corners of my mind that I never knew even existed.  I stopped sleeping.  I was barely eating.  The forest that once was my source of solace and my place of comfort had now become the source of my fear and terror.  I wasn’t myself anymore.  If I dozed off for a few minutes at night then I woke up shaking and sweating, overwhelmed by the sound of my ranger’sterrified screams, feeling the thunder of his continuous gunfire and all thosefrantic buffalo hooves all over again.  Little did I know that early 2014 would not be any better yet.  By February another of my rangers was murdered. He was killed within three kilometers of my tent, in my once beloved forest.  After that my research and all my goals just seemed to dissolve into thin air.

The trails that I once loved to hike on in search of chimps.

One day shortly after all of this, I wandered into the camp kitchen for some water.  My eyes had become sunken holes.  I was thin and pale, and I never laughed or smiled anymore. I felt trapped there in the place that I once loved so much.  I reached out to fill my bottle with tired, weak arms, not even glancing at my friend Moses standing next to the stove.  I knew he was concerned, but I could not even bother to talk to him that day.  Then, after a few seconds of silence, he mumbled in a timid, concerned voice, “Alicia, I think you should run.”  I felt so tired that I could barely walk.  Leaving my tent felt like so much effort.  I was sinking. How could I manage to run?  Where could I run?  Moses wanted to badly to save me though, and in all his great wisdom he continued to pressure me.

So I did.  I ran a few steps – one lap around our tents.  My legs felt heavy from the exhaustion of no food or sleep, but my breath felt so even and easy for the first time in months.  My steps felt so familiar.  The rhythm of my jog was comforting.  So the next day I ran a few more laps around the camp.  My breathing became steadier.  My steps got lighter.  That night I felt hungry enough to take a few more bites of my dinner.  I woke up in the morning with a little bit of color on my cheeks, and I laced up again.

I ran laps around our camp compound.

Several stressful months later, I came back to the US as a different version of myself.  I flew into Pittsburgh on a chilly Tuesday afternoon in April.  I hugged my family.  I smiled a little at dinner.  I still laid awake all night. As the sun rose on Wednesday morning, I laced up my shoes and moved five more miles toward my fresh new life, and on mile 4 of my chilly run I found my natural smile again.

Reunited with my family

after my homecoming run

Two weeks later I returned to Bloomington for my birthday. 15 of my closest friends met me at a nearby trailhead for a celebration run.  The jumped out of cars wearing their fancy running shoes and their brightly-colored tech shirts showering me with hugs and waves, with jokes and smiles. I was back home with my people.  It was on that run that I remembered what real laughing felt like again.  I could now recall what physical exhaustion combined with emotional rejuvenation could do for me.  I remembered that the sport that had begun rebuilding my sense of self was about so much more than just me. This sport was then and still is about those friends - learning from them, leaning on them, and getting strong enough to support them as well.

Running with Rickie is always mostly about the conversation.

Celebrating a great marathon with Rachel.

My husband ran his first marathon in August.

One of my first trail runs after my return to Bloomington.

My first race back with all of my friends.

All ready for Tecumseh Trail Marathon in October!

I write this story now, because I think that I need to share it before I step up to the start line in 2.5 weeks.  On December 6 I will attempt my first 50-mile ultra.  I might finish it, but I also might not.  My first 50-mile attempt could be my first DNF, and that’s really okay.  I’m becoming surprisingly comfortable with that possibility only because of the people that ran with me on the day that I returned to Bloomington.  Training for this race always had very little to do with December 6^th and very much to do with the days leading up to it.  My training was about painful memories and new beginnings.  It was about spending time with people that made me feel inspired and confident, and about falling in love with the trails and forest again.  I’m not a professional runner.  I don’t really run for the finishing time or the place in the race.  I run because I like to do it, and I love the people that it brings into my life.  So instead of thanking my friends after the race, I want to thank them before.  Let’s face it, even if I finish this thing I may not have much energy left for the gratitude that you all deserve. Thanks to my family, my husband, and my running friends and impromptu coaches.  You guys will never know how much you’ve done for me this year.

Thanks for making me really laugh again, everyone.