I'm running a marathon. Yep, still sounds weird.

I'm running a marathon...on Saturday.  On a scale of 1-10, I'd give my nervousness about an 8.  I mean I'm not near the "about to vomit in anxiety" stage, but I'm way past the "oh I'll be fine" stage.

Now I'm prepared as much as I think I should be.  I didn't go plotting out water points or thinking up my peeing strategy (apparently some pros suggest this), but I'm pretty well stocked up.

1. I have my awesome/amazing Team Daren shirt.  Now mine is actually of the moisture wicking variety, but because I am getting SO prepared, it is in the washing machine (so as to not irritate my sensitive skin by giving it an ol' wash before the wear), so I borrowed my mother's for this pictorial.  The shirt serves two purposes, one it makes me feel like a badass like Superman with the big S on my chest.  It signifies I'm part of something bigger, a group of people that through their loss they want to do some good.  Two, when I'm hurting, and Lord knows I will be, I can look down and think this 26.2 mile sacrifice is nothing compared to what Daren and many others have sacrificed.  (And if he were here, he would mercilessly make fun of me for not finishing).

2. I have my Nike watch, which is one of the coolest inventions in the world!  It helps me keep my pace and says encouraging things at the end like, "Good effort!" or "Record Time!"  I'm thinking this time it will say, "What were you thinking?  Start ingesting painkillers now."

3. Which brings us to #3 - Drugs.  (Okay so actually they are some anti-inflammatories, and maybe some Flintstone vitamins thrown in, hey they make a body strong!)

4. My Wounded Warrior Project wristband.  I'm running a 5K to benefit them on Christmas Eve, well assuming my legs still function by then.  Each band says a different word, I picked the one that says, "Country."

5. Sports beans!  They are delicious, nutritious and my friend JD gave them to me.  He is a runner extraordinaire and has helped me train every step of the way by politely encouraging me to run 5Ks at 5 am.

6. My green shoes!  They're purty.  I do need to wipe some of the dust off though.

7. Knee band, because I tweeked my knee a couple weeks back running on these uneven surfaces they call "roads" out here that are just dirt with some rocks thrown in that twist your knee.

8. My Camelbak Randy got me!  She even had them embroider a nametape for me!

So I have all my necessary accouterments, well minus one sister, but I'm meeting her down there.  I read the reviews and they said there are drill instructors on the hills to "gently encourage" the runners, and soldiers at all the water points, so I figure it will be just like "home!"  Also I did the math, okay Google did it for me, and there is 3,000 feet of elevation difference between Kandahar, Afghanistan and Ft Benning, Georgia, so I figure that has to give my endurance an extra ehhhhhhh 6 to 10 miles, right?

My cousin, Michelle, completed a marathon last weekend, in a wicked fast time, but at least it shows me I can do it!  Also I have the motivation that my sweet boss told me before I left, "If you don't finish, don't bother coming back."  (Of course he was kidding...I hope.)  Then there's the excitement of meeting all of Daren's friends and family that are just as stoked about running this race in memory of him.

I couldn't resist sharing that because a year and half ago that was my life.  A lil Law and Order SVU Marathon on Sunday while doing laundry in my apartment in WV.  Now I'm running 18 miles, doing laundry next to a Bulgarian and living in Afghanistan.

Happy Veterans Day to every man and woman who has served our country!  I try every day to live a life that is worthy of the sacrifices for our freedom made by our Wounded Warriors and our Fallen Heroes.

One smoothie at a time

30 Americans Killed in Afghanistan.  My mind immediately starts racing, who do I know in that province?  What was that SEALs name that did a United Through Reading a couple weeks ago?  Where there any MarSOCs or any other Special Forces in the crash?  What about our volunteer who is a Chinook pilot, I haven’t seen him a while?  I’m searching news websites for pictures, e-mailing friends and asking coworkers. 

Just a year ago these were just stories, this year this is my life. 

Every day I get a chance to help troops, and in this situation I feel absolutely helpless.  I can’t do anything to make it better.  I can’t take away the pain those families are feeling.  My heart aches for them.

I don’t think I knew any of the troops killed that day; I’m honestly still not 100% sure, but even if not, it does not make it any better.  There are still 30 families hearing the worst news of their lives wondering how they’ll make it through.  I read in an article that they interviewed a widow on the Today show and it was heartbreaking to listen to her as she had to correct herself from describing her husband as “is” to “was.”  Then there’s the 10 year old boy who lost his father and posted a picture to CNN because he didn’t want anyone to forget his daddy.

I just finished reading a moving book last week written by a Navy SEAL called, “The Heart and The Fist” by Eric Greitens.  He was a humanitarian volunteering in Rwanda and Croatia, then realized he wanted to do more and became a Navy SEAL.  He explains his reason for joining the SEALs:

We can certainly donate money and clothing, and we can volunteer in the refugee camps.  But in the end these acts of kindness are done after the fact.  They are done after people have been killed, their homes burned, their lives destroyed.  Yes, the clothing, the bread, the school; they are all good and they are all much appreciated.  But I suppose we have to behave the same way we would if any person – our kids, our sisters, brothers, parents – were threatened.  If we really care about these people, we have to be willing to protect them from harm.

These fallen heroes did just that.  They tried to make the world a better place for all of us.

 And a good life, a meaningful life, a life in which we can enjoy the world and live with purpose, can only be built if we do more than live for ourselves. – Greitens

This all still left me with a hollow feeling of what can I do to somehow make sense of this.  I can remember on September 11^th when the world was crashing down around us and no one had any idea what was going on, I came home from high school and my mom simply said, “these chairs need painted for Angela (my sister).”  We spent the afternoon not talking about the fear or uncertainty, but painting chairs.  The horrific acts of September 11th were beyond our control, we couldn’t change the outcome, so we did something productive for someone else.  We found silence in our minds and some comfort in our hearts by working with our hands for others.

Today was my first day back from vacation and I had the honor of visiting the Wounded Warriors' housing and making them smoothies with my coworkers.  For 2 hours even though I was surrounded by literally suffering - these men have been blown up and have holes shot in them, I had a non-stop smile on my face.  At first they were a bit timid and shy, but even while limping they offered to help us carry boxes.  Then once the blenders got whirring, they came out of the woodwork!  I loved putting a smile on their face, and letting them crack me up too!  We were waiting on some of the other soldiers to show up and one of the Wounded Warriors said yeah they’re all the guys with concussions to which another soldier quickly responded, “Yeah they probably forgot how to get here.”  :D

I worked at a smoothie shop for 6 months during my senior year of college, but I don't remember a single customer.  Today's smoothies made in the middle of a warzone, in the middle of summer, in the middle of a room filled with wounded soldiers, I'll never forget.  It wasn’t much what we did, but damn it felt good.

Across the globe, even in the world’s ‘worst places,’ people found ways to turn pain into wisdom and suffering into strength.  They made their own actions, their very lives, into a memorial that honored the people they had lost. - Greitens

The Beginning and the End

I originally wrote this post on 28JUN11.

Working for the USO and being one of those rare breeds on base we like to call females, I get to see some cool things.  I’ve flown on a Marine logistics flight to other FOBs, I’ve ridden in an MRAP and I’ve taken a tour with the PJs.

PJs are Pararescue Jumpers.  These men are in the US Airforce Special Operations, and they are responsible for the recovery and medical treatment of the wounded in a combat environment. (I knew all that but wikipedia just said it more concisely).  These are called MEDEVAC missions (medical evacuation).  They have to go to a specialized school for 2 years.  They must complete airborne school, survival school, underwater training, free fall parachutist school, and paramedic training among others.  Their motto is, “That Others May Live.”  They are basically badasses who save lives on a regular basis.

A couple months ago my coworker Duane and I got to tour their Black Hawks.  A PJ named Daniel gave us the tour and showed us all the equipment they use (I was shocked at how little there was, I remember even saying, “This is all it takes to save a life?  Any problem you have these few machines can fix?”  He said, “yes.” )  I put on his “kit” (bulletproof vest with attachments) on.  I nearly fell over from the weight and Daniel responded, “you don’t even have the ruck on yet.”  So then I put the ruck sack on.  It was so heavy, and he puts all this on and then squats or bends over to work on a patient.  They literally slide down a rope out of a chopper to get on the ground and save a troops life who has just been shot or blown up.  Then they throw them in the chopper and go.  Daniel had a large saw, I asked him what it was for, he said British “litters” (cots they put patients on) are longer than American litters and don’t fit on the plane, so they have to cut them down to size.  Of course since we’re in a warzone there is a 50 caliber gun and a Airman’s job who is to be the “gunner.”  Daniel told us a story of once the pilot was shot in the leg and he had to take his ruck and kit off and maneuver himself to slide up and over through to the cockpit to work on the pilot’s leg while they were flying back to KAF. 

I was so grateful for the tour and for what they do.  As we were walking back to get a bottle of water after the tour all of their pagers went off and they took off sprinting toward the choppers.  We got to see them all suit up efficiently and quickly and take off within 2 minutes to go save another life.  It was AMAZING.

Last night, my running coach, Capt. Simmons gave my coworker Randy and I a tour of CASF.  This is the area where they hold the wounded warriors near the flight line until a flight is ready for them to get on to be transported to a more equipped hospital in Bagram (Kabul, Afghanistan) or Landstuhl hospital in Germany.  After taking a tour, Simmons talked his way into letting us up in the control tower on the flight line.  We could see all of KAF.  It was breathtaking.  It is HUGE.  It is a city.  We watched C130s, and Chinooks fly by.  They say Kandahar Air Field has the busiest runway in the world.  It was crazy to be that close to airplanes that were constantly taking off and landing. 

While we were standing on the catwalk outside the tower, two Black Hawks approached.  Simmons told us they were a MEDEVAC mission coming in.  We watched two ambulances wait on the flightline while the two choppers landed.  PJs jumped out and carried the litters to the people waiting on the ground who put the wounded warriors in the ambulance (glorified humvee) and drove them the few feet to Role 3.  Role 3 is the emergency and critical care hospital.  Role 2 would be where you go for a sinus infection or the flu.  They didn’t seem very hurried so we took that as a good sign that the troops weren’t hurt too badly.  Simmons found out today they were Bravo, Alpha is the most critical that’s gun shot wounds or IEDs, Bravo is not as hurt.  As we watched the PJs jump back in and the choppers slicing through the air I thought of how I saw them at the beginning and the end.  The thing is I never want to see the middle.  I thought of my friends who have been MEDEVACd the ones who have died and the one who have lived.  How terrifying of a flight that must be.

Randy and I both said we could stand on that catwalk for hours and watch all the planes fly by.  We started to make our way around the catwalk and back indoors when Simmons pointed out Mortuary Affairs to us.  It is situated right behind the Role 3.  He pointed to the connexes where they keep the heroes (that is what they refer to the deceased as).  Simmons told us how sometimes mortuary affairs will go greet the PJs instead of Role 3.  That broke my heart.  Simmons even talked about how a few times he has volunteered over there to iron flags.  Just thinking about the incredible strength it would take to fill a metal box with ice to place a killed troop in, to iron the flag that will cover his final resting place, to say goodbye to a face that his own mother probably doesn’t even know is dead yet.  I took it all in.

Tonight Randy and I attended a ramp ceremony for 3 Marine heroes and 1 Army hero.  Before when I attended ramps I just felt a numbing sorrow.  This time I could picture it every step of the way, from the PJs getting the call, to the flight in, and the Role 3 and mortuary affairs.  It gave me some small sense of comfort to know that every single step of the way there were people trying with every last millimeter of their bodies’ limits to honor that troop.  The pilot of the chopper was racing to get to him, the medic on the ground was racing to keep him alive, the PJs were desperately trying to keep him going on the flight to Role 3, the doctors there tried their hardest too, and then mortuary affairs tried their best to prepare the body.  And me, well I’m a part of it too, because I’m trying my hardest with every ounce in my body to stand tall, place my hand over my heart while Amazing Grace plays, and honor that hero. 

Tomorrow I will write 4 new names on my hand when I run.  That’s one way I have found to honor them.  I encourage you to find a way.  When you send cookies to the troops deployed, adopt a soldier through Soldiers' Angels, make cards for our troops to send home through Operation Write Home, write a sister’s boyfriend’s best friend’s cousin who is deployed, donate to an organization that supports Wounded Warriors, thank any troop you see anywhere for their service, that’s how you can honor them.

I’ve seen the beginning and I’ve seen the ending, and I think both are in God’s hands.  It’s the middle, what you do with it, that’s what counts.