Are You Living It?

We were inspired by Lera Haines’ story a few months ago.  Here, in her own words, she tells us about surmounting a huge challenge for a greater cause.  Way to go, Lera!

About five years ago I told myself I’d never do a marathon again.  I had run cross country and track in both high school and at the college level.  However, the physical pain and hallucinations I experienced in my first four marathons were not all they were cut out to be.

Yet there I was last fall on the side of the road, on the way to meet some friends camping outside of Socorro, New Mexico, crying my eyes out.  My father, who has been my rock, confidant, hero and best friend, was diagnosed with leukemia.  My world was turned upside down.

On that camping trip with some really close friends I began racking my brain for what I might be able to do to help myself and my family cope with this wide spread disease.  A friend had told me recently about Team in Training, that support people in fundraising and completing a race to raise money for leukemia and lymphoma research.  I was in like flynn.

I began training back in January, remotely however because Team in Training, surprise, surprise, doesn’t have a team in Bayfield, Colorado (population 1000.)  I logged many miles and ate many pizzas on my way to race day (despite being gluten intolerant, there’s hardly a better way to get that many calories and tastiness than in pizza.)

June 1, 2008

My husband and I got up at the crack of dawn to make coffee and for me to try and choke down some oatmeal.  My stomach was doing child’s pose, so with no hope for eating, I grasped my oatmeal in a plastic cup in my hand until it turned into a gelatinous mess by the time I met Team in Training at the  Grand Hotel in  Steamboat.  There was a personal shuttle for us to the starting line.  I felt like I was a celebrity of some sort until I realized everyone was wearing spandex and had homemade goo holders attached to their hips.  Thank god they provided bagels for us, I grabbed one and soon we were on the bus.

For some reason those 26 miles on the shuttle ride out to the starting line felt like 80.  I literally thought we were never going to get there.  Maybe this was really an experiment for the Discovery channle and they are really just taking us to the middle of nowhere in the wilderness and leaving us to crawl home with goos.

The race began about an hour later.  The guys behind me yelled shake n bake right before we started, and we were off.  It was about a mile into the race that I realized that the elevation graph displayed on the Steamboat Marathon website was less than accurate.  Those “small uphills” were behemoths.

I felt good and held my pace of between 8:4-9:00 minute miles until about mile 20.  I was actually enjoying the beautiful scenery a bit and noticing the varieties of plant life blooming in the Elk River Valley.

At mile 16 I saw my husband and father cheering for me and I looked and felt great.  I saw them again at about 20 when things were going down hill.  At mile 21 I looked down at my shoes and saw blood oozing out of the mesh of my running shoes.  My stomach began doing cartwheels.  I was desperate for water.  At the water station at mile 22 I chugged some water and gatorade.  I saw the Team in Training support station in the distance ahead of me.  As I pulled up one of the coaches began running next to me, I didn’t know whether to cry or vomit.  I drank some more water because by this time it was about 87 degrees out.

I hit mile 24 and another coach from Team in training met me on the course.  When he asked how I was doing, I responded with a Exorcist type explosion of all of the water and gatorade that was in my body all over the road.  Then I kept running, or attempting to run, although at the pace I was going by that point he could walk next to me.

He left me at mile 25 and I kept telling myself, if I can just cross that damn finish line I will never run again.  My shoes were tied too tight and were cutting off the circulation to my ankles.

I hit the last few blocks and friends were there cheering.  I crossed the finish line and puked my brains out again.

Team in Training was there to support me through the whole thing.  They supported me in my fundraising, training, watched me when I was puking, cheered for me when I was not, gave me whatever I needed, and followed up with me after the race to see how I was doing.

I don’t think I truly appreciated what I had put my body through until I saw my dad walking up to me at the finish line.  His eyes puffy from the oral chemotherapy treatments, telling me how proud he was.  To anyone who races and is looking to do it for more than just yourself, please consider racing for Team in Training.  visit www.teamintraining.org

By the way, it is now a week and a half later and I am already running again and looking for my next race:)