Thankful and Hungry

This past Sunday was yet another new experience for me. It seems the last four months or so has been full of those. Its not that new things and new experiences are bad, though I must say an easier road would have been welcomed.

Sunday morning was the running of the Germantown Half Marathon and Mayor's Cup 5k. This half served as one of my training races as I prepped for my first marathon in 2008. I struggled to stumble across the line in 1:29:38, and hurt for several days after. My dad did, however, point out to me, I had only been seriously running again for about 4 months at that point, so it was nothing to shrug at. That is a great memory, and now thanks to this race, I will have many more.

It was a perfect storm of a morning. My in laws had volunteered to watch the boys on Saturday night, which freed me up to serve water at an aide station along the route, I had to be there at 6:45, which ment a 5:30 wake up call. Monica was able to get a well deserved morning ignoring the alarm, and I was able to give a little back. What exactly was I giving back to though...?

We must go back to about a month after the wreck when Jonathan Justley approached me and the pastor of my church about raising money for our family by taking donations for running the Germantown Half. I said it sounded great, but was humbled beyond belief. What do you say to people who are willing to ask money of others so that you might benefit? Not only that, but they are willing to punish themselves over 13.1 miles in order to do so.It still blows my mind to even consider their thoughtfulness.

When I learned of the amounts of money that were being raised, I was even more shocked. I have done nothing to deserve this. Seriously, nothing. I was just on a sidewalk, just going for a run,and yet God chose to bless my family and I through tragedy, and gave others a chance to serve. The Sunday before the race, I was scurrying trying to think of a way to thank everyone. Obviously, thank you notes were in order, but I wanted to do something more. To save all the long story of how I failed miserably at that, I found a new route. It turns out Fleet Feet, one of our local running stores, needed help at their aide station, positioned at roughly mile 1, and then 11 on the way back. I was in! I wanted to help, and I wanted to serve those that were doing so much for me.

One of those people was my father. This would be his second half marathon, and truthfully something he feared going into it. My dad is in his upper 50's, and for most people in general, the endurance events stop being run way before that. He is trying to get in to the New York City Marathon to do something similar, but this race was a sure thing. He committed to upping his effort in order to be ready to go come race day. It meant so much to me to see him working his tail off to get ready for this, and it still does as he continues to try and get ready for New York in November.

The morning was great. The temperature, for those of us not running, was perfect. At the Fleet Feet tent, coffee, mimosas, and bloody mary's were what we were NOT giving the runners, but they were still present. It was a great time with other runners and enthusiasts of the sport. Not to mention, these are the people, who every time I walk through the door to their store want to make sure I am doing okay, and always ask how recovery is going. Incredible people. Go buy shoes today from them!

I watched the faces of many nameless runners go by, and high fived and whooped and hollered for my friends as they passed (granted they were in the middle of about a mile long climb, so they needed all the encouragement they could get). As everyone went by at mile 11, I waited for my dad, and then hauled my tail across the street to get into my car, fight race traffic, and scurry, with my boot and one crutch, about a quarter of a mile to catch my dad finish. He crossed in right around 2:25:00 or so, right where he wanted to be. I was so proud, he had worked hard, and he had done it for me, what else could a son want?


At the end of the day, my emotions are still a little scattered. I am so thankful to the willingness of everyone who literally taxed themselves physically on my behalf. These were not age group award winners. Not one of them will ever go under 3 hours for the marathon. Most did not even run in High School, yet there they were, out there, pounding it for me. I am going to carry this with me as I continue to move forward. If people who came out and hurt for me, and ran 13.1, and it was not even something they do regularly, then there is not reason why I cannot obliterate my training when I get back, and be an inspiration for others as they have been for me. I am not going to make any bold or crazy statements, but I have things circling in my mind. I will not deny that I have been inspired by each and every one of them, and I will carry their efforts with me at each race I run, on every hard tempo, and along with me as I chase my many goals that I still plan on achieving.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

The Olympic Year

This is one of my more exciting posts, and it has nothing to do with my recovery. Yesterday afternoon I purchased www.theolympicyear.com .

This is a brain child that is going to be a lot of work, but has the potential to be fantastic. I am seeking to get the word out about American and International distance running in the coming Olympic year. There will be exclusive interviews and insightful commentary from running's current and past giants.

This blog will still house my personal running stories and the documentation of my recovery, but there will no longer be commentary about the running world at large. Perhaps the random musing that has nothing to do with the Olympics, but for the most part, my energies will focus on Olympic preparation.

Thank you for following me here, and I hope you continue to do so. I also hope you move on to www.theolympicyear.com and become a subscriber (free) to its great content. Thanks again, and enjoy.

An Announcement!

So...got this email today. It read like this-

Congratulations AUSTIN SELBY!

You're eligible for guaranteed entry to the race everyone wants to run—the ING New York City Marathon on November 6, 2011. You must claim your guaranteed entry by 11:59 p.m. on April 19.

Let's not kid ourselves. I knew full well that I qualified automatically for this year's race the moment I crossed the line last November. I had already agreed with my wife, who so patiently endures all of my training, that I would not tax our budget by going to NYC or somewhere else crazy to run a race this next year. You see, that was all well and good, and then I went for a run on December 9th.

Getting hit by the car has managed to change numerous things in my life, and it would appear that this is going to be one of them. As soon as I received the email, I called my wife and told her what a bummer it was. There is no way that I will be marathon ready come this November, and really, who would want to go run 4:30 or slower, when you just a year before ran almost two hours faster? I should not even be walking yet, much less planning a fall marathon for this year (though, I am walking now:) God Be Praised! I mentioned that I would love a deferment, and my wife, to my surprise said, "Of course, you have to. Yes. Yes. Yes."

Well I then proceeded to read the email that I was sent, prepared to fire back an impassioned response, and more or less beg to be let into the 2012 race. However, the New York Road Runners Club, brilliant people that they are, had an option for such people like me. You can register, pay, cancel, and defer to the next year. Ah Ha! Brilliant to quote the Guiness guys.

So, without further ado. My next marathon, my return to marathoning, will once again be in the great 5 borough race. The ING New York City Marathon.

Working on my racing and training schedule as soon as I get off here. Will post it in the coming days.

Mortality and Its Ugly Head

In the past when I would read the story of a runner or cyclist who was struck by a car and either killed or injured, I would double take and more or less be grateful it was not me. Even Matt Long's incredible story, was not much more than a blip on my radar. Then one December day, it was me. But for the grace of God, and not having my ipod on, I was able to avoid being run over and instead had the bumper fly me over the car. It hurt, and still does, and I will carry scars, but at least I get to carry those scars for a few more years with the ones I love.
Sally Meyerhoff, one of the fastest female marathoners in the United States was tragically killed while she was out on her bike yesterday. Sally was an outsider for a trip to London, and had recently won the PF Chang's Marathon in Arizona. She has been referred to as vibrant and the life of any crowd, and it appears that respect for her in the running community was, and still is rampant.

From my standpoint however, there is a whole new level of sadness and empathy with Sally, who is no longer with us. She was out doing what she loved and was gifted by God to do. She was going to be running in the United States Woman's Olympic Trails next January. In fact, she was 27 years old, my age. The more I write this the more eerie it becomes, and the less I am even able to form my thoughts. However, there is one truth that I am realizing about us endurance athletes, and it springs from this incident. We are not invincible.

Somewhere out there in our hundreds of thousands of miles of running, and pain searing training sessions, we forget that we are stoppable. There are forces out there that are greater than our own will to control pain and endure. Even when we are faced with injuries that sideline us for a short time, we see it as a bump in the road and move on. Generally though, it is a multi-ton vehicle that gets the job done. Or for Aaron Rolston it was a large boulder in a Canyon. Yet seemingly for many runners and cyclists, its those multi ton vehicles (Steve Prefontaine, Sally Meyerhoff, myself). This is not the time nor place to debate motorist v peds and cyclists. Sometimes it is a life threatening or simply debilitating illness, such as the case with Bart Yasso.

It is as if God wants to remind us that we are not the greatest things to grace the planet. That there is so much our human bodies are bound to. That is a humbling thought. Athletes like us, and those that are far greater, have limits, we and they, are not invincible. That is what makes tragedies like these even harder to wrap our minds around. We want to think our heroes will live on forever, and become living legends. That, however, is not how God has ordered our universe though, and far too often we lose those that inspire us to greatness.

Perhaps non endurance athletes have to grapple with their mortalness more than those of us who are gluttons for punishment. Maybe it is something they tinker with in the back of their minds more than those of us who are looking to constantly figure out how adjust to whatever road blocks come our way physically. It is as if we see a solution to every problem that does not involve ending our never ceasing chase for athletic perfection. Then suddenly, like the wall at mile 20, it hits us. We see those in their prime get cut down and themselves, or their abilities leave us far soon. Often times, it is our own bodies that give us these nasty reminders.

Sally Meyerhoff will be greatly missed. All the legends of old still are, and while she was not a record setting runner, she was still a bright spot in the lives of the running world. She had the infectious smile that spoke of being carefree and almost limitless. Everyone in those situations always seems to have something that speaks to that desire to be limitless. Pre's stare that could freeze the water's of the Bahamas spoke to his fear of no thing or no man. The real fact is that we all meet an end, and some of us are lucky enough to realize early on by near brushes that an end is out there somewhere. That we are held within certain boundaries. However, may we never be without those who constantly seek to find the location of those boundaries, and who will continue to test the bounds of the physical. May that part of us, tempered as it may be by these circumstances, always remain slightly lit. Because no matter how often we are reminded of this reality, every human has within them a dare to hope for the impossible.

Back on Two Feet (and some crutches)!

I have had March 8th circled on my calendar for what seems like an eternity. Not because it is International Women's day (in Russia and former USSR), or because it is the long awaited day of the Memphis School Consolidation vote, but because it was my three month appointment with my orthopedic doctor.

Ever since I was lying in the hospital bed swollen and sore, every doctor kept telling me that three months was the earliest I could even have a chance to do anything, walk, use my arm, you name it. I could not walk if my leg was not healed enough, and I also could not use crutches or a walker if the shoulder could not support the new strain.

I have been doing everything possible to make all of those things happen today. Chugging milk at home. Religiously using my bone stimulator. Killing it at physical therapy three times a week. I have ridden almost 100 miles on a recumbent bike over the past couple of weeks or so to get that much needed blood flowing to my ailing leg. You name it, I have been doing it in the name of healing as quickly as possible.

There was some nervous anticipation this morning as obviously you never really know what is going on under your skin, but I had within me a quiet confidence that only a runner can have before a race when they feel really good, but do not want to say anything for fear of jinxing it. The doctor came in and was incredibly upbeat. He informed me that everything was almost done healing. Almost done! I was hoping for on the way to being done, but this was far better. He said the arm looked great and same for the leg! We looked at XRays and was very excited by what he was able to show me.

There were several other neat portions to the appointment. He described the break in my arm and told me that they cannot even accurately recreate in cadavers the kind of break I had and where I had it. I simply had just absorbed an incredible amount of force to a part of the body that can actually handle an incredible amount of stress. Lets also not forget my leg was broken in four places, and now, it appears that I will have a complete and full union. The doctor said the only way that I could have healed faster is if I had been 17 or 18 years old. So I take that as, I am as healthy as a teenager, I will take that as I creep up on 30.

My wife's grin was stretching from ear to ear, and we were incredible ecstatic as the doctor told me that I could start bearing 50% of my entire body weight on that left leg, and I had the go ahead to start walking with the aide of crutches, and to start strength training on the right arm. Prayers answered! and sooner than expected!

Physical Therapy was like a dream come true. I was walking around, and doing all kinds of new exercises that I had only been dreaming about for months. I feel like I should go out and about for the heck of it.

So in my mind, July still looks like a reasonable time to start running again. Just so you all know, half a mile a day, tops for a week or so, and we will see how we progress. I am not exactly planning my next races or anything, but there are a few I have my eyes on. Right now I will enjoy not being so dependent on everyone else, and begin paying everyone back by helping them as much as I can. We are still fighting with insurance so that they will continue to cover my Physical Therapy, so here's hoping that goes well.

Thank you again everyone for your support. Things are getting really exciting and normalcy seems to be on the horizon!