In My Sister's Running Shoes

Imagine you were a competitive runner in high school, and 27 years later you still hold records.  You were invited to train with an Olympic coach who believed you would make the U.S. team.  It was discovered you had a heart condition, and you learned that dreams die hard.  You pushed past that disappointment, became an athletic trainer/physical therapist, and at age 40 still love to run, back pack, zip line, and do anything adventurous. In one second, your life changes again when you are in an accident.   You destroy your left knee, both bones close to the knee are crushed into dust, and you are told you will never work or walk again.  You weren’t surprised because you had already self-diagnosed at the scene of the accident and knew the extent of your damage. You suffer multiple complications from the accident including repetitive pain syndrome, blood clots, and inflammation throughout your body that causes additional health concerns.  For five years, you draw on strength from God, what you’d learned from long distance running, and the medical knowledge you gained from your chosen profession.  You reuse to quit or give up hope, and have fought through extreme pain.  Your athletic determination moves you from the couch, to a wheel chair, to a walker, to walking without assistance.  Walking again is a bitter-sweet victory, because you have been advised to walk as little as possible to save your mobility.  Every step grinds away more of what is left of your knee and leg bones. Doctors think they might be able to give you one knee replacement, which could last 15 years, but there is no guarantee they can attach a replacement.  There might not be enough bone to anchor it too, and a failed attempt means a certain end to walking.  Each step you choose to take is one less you might be able to take in the future so each step must be spent wisely.

You have just imagined life in my sister’s running shoes.  On May 5 of this year, my sister, Juleigh, celebrated the 5th anniversary of her accident.  She made the emotional decisions to celebrate by walking in the Not Your Average Joe’s 5K this past Saturday.  Joshua and I decided that there are some things in life that are too important to miss.  There was no doubt that we had to drive the 13 hours to surprise Juleigh and walk beside her. There were 100 reasons why we shouldn’t have.  Crazy deadlines for work, the price of gas, the Sunday morning commitments we couldn’t miss, having to turn right around and drive right back home late at night – the list could go on and on.  But there are some moments in life to precious, too profound, too miraculous to miss.  My parents, Joshua, and I showed up at the race wearing “Team Juleigh” t-shirts, and I am sure those around us wondered why there were so many tears.  There was no way they could understand what she felt when she heard the gun sound as she once again stood on a starting line or what I felt starting beside her in the race instead of being in my usual place, cheering on the sidelines.  Others might not have noticed how she automatically picked up the pace when the first runners lapped us, but we all knew that if life wasn’t hard they would be chasing her instead.  It was only right when she and Joshua, also a long distance runner, pulled away from me as they targeted and schemed to overtake each group of walkers that were just a little bit ahead.  As I followed behind, I stared at the back of Juleigh’s bright yellow shirt, and I cried.  I am the big sister who was there to see her very first step as an infant, and later could only pray she would have a first step again.  And there she was – once again where she belonged.  Better, stronger, faster, tougher, braver - life’s winner.  My second 5K was my sister's second first 5K.  A new kind of race that marked a milestone in life bumpy road.  A race that wasn't about the time at the finish line, but about staring the rest of the time we have to live in the face and saying we will fight and overcome.  For me it was a trail of tears to celebrate and give thanks for miracles, remembered past pain, enduring love, and a prayer for the road yet to be conquered.  Life is a race my sister will always win.  I am so proud to be a part of her team.