Go on without me...

One of the first things I said to Alex when not running became my reality was, “I want you to find a new guide to run with.”  

I knew I needed to say it right away because I meant it, but worried I might not be able to say it later once the reality of not running really had time to settle in my mind. 

Guiding Alex, running with him, being his eyes while doing something I loved, was really something special for me, for us. It wasn’t easy or always fun, but it was ours and it was special. It was a unique challenge to find a combined goal and to trust each other and work together in that way. It was a really fantastic opportunity we had, and I’m glad we had it while we did. 

{I should stop and explain to anyone who doesn’t know, that Alex is my husband and he’s blind, and we ran together for the past 5 years, with me guiding him by tether during races}

So I wanted him to find a new guide, and continue to run outside and participate in races. I really did, and still do...but damn if it didn’t bring up all kinds of crazy emotions when the reality of it came up. 

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 Alex is going to run Boston this coming spring.

 

He first told me he wanted to register for Boston 2018 when I was just a few weeks post-op from surgery. He told me because he wanted to ask my permission (knowing I’d be devastated sad), and he also needed my help to register (their website is not accessible for his blind-person computer software). 

I’ll back up a little:

Twice, we ran the Philadelphia Marathon together (2015 and 2016) and both times he qualified for Boston as a blind athlete. 

So we ran Boston together in April 2017.

I had my worst race ever, which sadly meant he had a bad race also. Hopefully I will get over feeling badly about this. Any day now! But damn, what a disappointment that was for us. BUT, we had just finished Philly2016 a few months prior, with a great time, so we knew we had another crack at Boston. We planned to run again in April 2018. I was determined to have this be our best Marathon time ever. I was certain we were going to be amazing together and feel so good about running it. 

And then we thought maybe we would go on to run the Las Vegas Marathon, and...

So yeah, obviously those plans changed. 

And when I told Alex back in July that I wanted him to keep running and find a new guide, I meant it, but couldn’t know how it would feel to experience it so shortly after surgery. And honestly, maybe it wouldn’t matter how soon after surgery it was, maybe it would hurt at any point. Who knows. 

So the conversation happened where he told me he wants to run Boston, and is it ok with me and can I help him register. 

And my reaction was to start crying, a lot.  

I wanted to say “absolutely, that’s awesome, I’m so excited for you.”

Instead I felt rather devastated, and jealous, and angry, and couldn’t say anything. Not feelings I wanted to be feeling. Not how I wanted to act. 

I meant it when I said I wanted him to keep running with a guide, but damn if it didn’t hurt to have that actually happen. He deserves to run Boston and any other race he wants to run, but damn if I’m not jealous of his new partner getting to experience that joy of guiding him across the finish. My injury does not mean that I begrudge others who still run, but damn if I am not angry about my own inability to run. 

So I cried and told him of course he could run Boston and of course I would help him register but I needed time to process everything. 

*Again, I wanted to be cool with all of this, but my reaction was what it was. I’m not proud of it. I don’t like feeling jealous and angry, but those are the feelings that rose to the surface.*

A few weeks later, I’ve stopped crying about it. I registered him, and his confirmation came in the mail. I bought him new running shoes to train in, and offered to remind him of the mileage schedule we used in previous years. I also offered to talk to his new guide (his brother, who has never run as a guide before) to give him tips on running with Alex. 

Alex has thanked me for “being cool” with this.

 I am not being cool about this at all.

 Cool is what I want to be. 

What I am is sad and mournful and rather embittered. At my core, I am supportive of him doing this 1,000% without question. I would be a special kind of asshole if I asked him to stop running because I couldn’t run anymore. My negative feelings right now are rooted in my own limitations. They are selfish feelings. And all of that is ok, and I will move on from them eventually. 

 I feel like time will help, and me being physically more normal and active will help. Being honest and writing this down will help. It’s only been a month since this all came up for the first time, and I feel better already. 

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2018 is going to be a year of finding my new normal. Being a spectator for my husband, rather than his running guide, is part of that. 

On New Years Day I parked at the base of the South Street Bridge and walked up to see the skyline. It is my favorite view, was almost always part of my running route on a given day, and something I haven’t seen on foot in over 2 months. 

It was the perfect way to start my year.

 It’s not necessarily going to be easy to find my new normal, but I am excited about what that might look like!