A Birthday Run - Running For Sandy

So it's been a while since my last post and it's not because I haven't been running, it's because I don't have time to write about it afterwards!!  So I don't think I can keep writing after every run anymore, but I did want to take the time to write about the run I had on my birthday, Sunday, November 4th. It was very emotional & interesting for me and very unexpected.

It had been a few days since Hurricane Sandy hit and it had been a few days since I had done running of any kind.  The bleak weather, lack of electricity, and getting my mom settled in with us while she had no power herself made fitting a run in difficult for me.  The training program I had been following had me feeling frustrated and lackluster towards this new sport I have thrown myself into.  So I honestly wasn't looking forward to it but knew I had to do it.

Me & the girl at Pt. Pleasant, July 2009

For days I had been looking at pictures of the devastation in disbelief.  I couldn't fathom what had happened to these places that hold so many memories for me.  In my childhood, days at the beach were spent at Sandy Hook and vacations were to Wildwood Crest where the beach was so large it felt like you walked for miles before hitting the water.  When I got older I headed to Seaside with my friends.  Our after-prom festivities, hooky days, and retreat before heading to college were spent on the rides of the Funtown Pier and in the sands beside the MTV beach house (for you youngsters reading this, the ORIGINAL MTV beach house back when it was merely a tent and people dancing on the beach, not this Jersey Shore BS).  And when I had children the MILF crew walked the boards of Point Pleasant and enjoyed all the fun Jenkinson's had to offer. I heard the reports about the Atlantic City boardwalk floating through the streets.  I heard that there had been damage to other boardwalks as well.  But I didn't see the image of the Star Jet in the ocean until the 3rd.  The bar we were supposed to sing karaoke at the night before in Brigantine was pretty much gone.  And it was on this day, the 4th that I saw the first images of Point Pleasant.  I guess I had hoped that since it stayed out of the news for so long that meant that not much damage had been incurred.  And when I saw the pictures, I couldn't wrap my head around it.  We were there just weeks ago. 

I went downstairs with a fuzzy head.  What was happening?  It wasn't fair.  I was angry.  I was sad.  I was happy we were OK.  I was frustrated that next summer would be so different.  I was upset that my 33rd birthday was completely overtaken by everything else going on in the world and I felt overlooked.  And so I ran.

Me & the boy at Pt. Pleasant carousel, July 2012

I ran with the intensity of all of the emotions I was feeling.  I ran angry because my karaoke bar was taken away from me.  I was angry that I had to explain to my 3 year old that no, we can't go to the aquarium for a while because the town around it is in pieces.  I thought of what she would say to me and how would I be able to tell her that the rides are broken and I don't know when or even if they will be fixed.  And then I cried.  I cried and I ran.  I cried because of everything that was lost.  I cried because of how stupid & selfish I felt.  Who cares about my 33rd birthday?!  I cried because I was disappointed in myself for being mad.  I have friends who don't have houses right now, how on earth can I think about karaoke?!  I cried because I didn't know what else to do and I felt completely helpless.  I cried and I ran.  I cried because of how lucky I am.  Lucky that all of my family is OK.  We were without power for less than 2 days and we are fine.  I cried because our rickety old house withstood this frankenstorm yet staples of our NJ shore heritage were gone.  I ran and I cried.  I cried because I could run.  I cried because while I was running on a treadmill thinking about how to explain to my kids that their summer fun place was gone, a woman's voice echoed questioning how she would tell her kids that their house was gone.  My God, I am so lucky.  I cried because I was so overwhelmed with joy to be blessed with this life, MY life.  I cried and ran until the nonsense was gone and the tears were dry and the noise was silent.  And then I just ran.  I didn't care how tired I was or that I haven't run 3 miles since September and my hamstrings were screaming.  I ran.  I ran because I could.  The more I ran, the more I settled.

I ran 3.1 miles in 30:54.  When I was done I was at peace and my head was clear.  I've never had such an experience as this; it's probably the healthiest way all around that I've ever dealt with overwhelming, polarizing emotions.  I think I get it now, or at least I am starting to.