Genesis

If you had met me a few years ago you probably wouldn't have liked me very much.  I was a bitter, angry, cynical and I had a short fuse that could burst over the smallest incident.  I was suffering from severe depression; although I'm not sure I even realized that I was depressed.  I would get intense feelings and I would have no idea where they came from or why I was feeling them.  I was very confused and hopeless; I thought about ending my life more than a few times, and made self destructive decisions that should have ended my life on more than one occasion.  I did not care about my life, and I had no hope for my future.  I have felt this way since high school, but the older I got I could feel the feelings becoming more intense and more erratic, and my self destructive decisions began to take over my life. 
After high school things seemed to get worse and worse for me.  I had always cared about school and loved learning.  I stopped caring about school and I was placed on academic probation until I could re-evaluate what I wanted to do in school.  I took that time to focus on working and I got my certification to be a hair stylist like my mom.  I thought it would be a great way to make extra money, I didn't realize how hard it actually was.  I couldn't keep a job to save my life, because I would get bored easily and I didn't follow what I was passionate.  I think at one point I held 7 jobs in one year; imagine the taxes for that year...  Woof.
I eventually started getting things together on my own, but there was still a dark cloud over my head.  I had found my way back into school and I was feeling like I was on the right track; but I had so much further to go.  One night, after a very bad episode (and I mean BAD),  I decided that I was done with it all.  I had behaved so poorly that I thought I would lose everyone I love and I decided that it was worth getting some real help.  I sought out government funded programs, because I wasn't able to afford my own treatment.  I began meeting with a therapist and taking DBT classes.  The DBT (Dialectical Behavior Therapy) program was a very insightful program.  I learned a lot about emotions and how to deal when things got too overwhelming for me.  I didn't care for the group portion, because I'm not a big group therapy kind of gal; but I find it helpful to go talk to a person who knew nothing about me, and only wanted to help me figure out what was going on in my head.  She officially diagnosed me with severe depression and we started working on it right away. Slowly but surely I started feeling more like my old self.  I was able to repair the relationships that meant the most to me, and I let go of the ones that were toxic to my health.  I began to find happiness in the things I used to enjoy.  
When I was growing up I spent a lot of time at my grandparent's house while my parents were at work.  My grandma would give me a surprise every day when I arrived at her house, she was always stocked up with toys and craft supplies.  I loved spending the day with Gram.  Often those day would turn into night time slumber parties completed by dessert after dinner while we watching Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy every night. She taught me about baking, although I never really found a knack for it.  She was the best and kindest lady I knew, and I love and admired her so much.  In 2012 they discovered Gram had cancer, and she began chemotherapy therapy treatments.  She would go to her appointments in which she had to sit for hours and hours while they pumped the killer chemicals into her fragile, wilting body.  What amazed me about her was that she never complained, and she always made sure she looked her best for her appointments in her matching outfits, perfect nails, and a bold and brave smile on her face.  I admired her so much.

In the Spring term in my final year of College (I graduated in 2012) I took a class about health and fitness.  I can't say I really remember a lot from that class, but I am sure that it is where my life really started to change for the better.  In addition to the classroom  lecture part of the course, we were also require to spend at least 120 minutes per week in our school's workout facility.  This is where my goal setting began.  For one of my lessons, I had to take a test to measure my cardiovascular fitness.  I knew I was pretty out of shape at that point, having not been active since water polo, but I was completely shocked to find out that I was below the Below Average result category.  I was even more sick with the fact that I was weighing 199 pounds at the beginning of that term.  I was disgusted, disappointed and depressed that I had let myself become that way; and I decided that I didn't want to be that person anymore.  So I set a goal to improve. 
At first my journey was simply to improve my test result so I could at least be on the scoreboard when it came to my fitness.  Slowly my number improved and I was able to run for longer and longer periods of time.  I tested my fitness with my dog, Balto; I let him pull me around the local park as fast as he wanted, but he had to pull all 199 pounds of me with him.  That lasted for almost a mile before we were both gasping for air, and I was drenched in sweat.  Balto was almost just as out of shape as I was.  It made me feel bad.  Balto is a husky/wolf/akita mix, so he is pretty much a natural born runner.  He is bred to run.  He LOVES to run. As tired and worn out as he was, it was pretty clear he was happy.  Seeing Balto so happy made me pretty happy.  His desire and happiness to run inspired my desire to run more; in fact some days are still days that I run simply to make Balto happy.

As my test results became better, and I began looking for a bigger challenge.  I wanted to find a race to dedicate to my Gram.  The problem was, there wasn't a Race for the Tubal Cancer, and I decided to settle on the Race for the Cure.  I was familiar with that race, having walked/jogged the course before.  If I was going to spend 120 minutes a week working out, I figured I had better put a goal at the end of the road.  Race for the Cure 2012 was the first time I ever ran 3 miles non-stop.  (3.1 miles to be exact...)  I wanted to stop many times, but I thought about my Gram who was sitting for hours a day in chemotherapy, fighting for her life and not ever complaining once; I was able to finish the whole raced fueled by her strength and spirit.  I felt amazing.  At one point when passing through an aid station, I grabbed a water cup and dumped it on my head.  I felt like I was in a movie and it made me laugh.  I ran the course in under 30 minutes too, which even further blew my mind.  Holy shit!  I did it.  I went home that day and signed up for my first sprint triathlon.

I trained like a maniac the next few months.  As a swimmer in high school, I was not worried about the first phase of the race.  I was actually excited, in a very nervous way.  I knew that my strength in the pool was most triathlete's weaknesses.  I also had a great time riding bikes and I had biked the Springwater trail many times before from Gresham to Portland.  I did enter one race to get my mind geared up for a bike race.  It was more of a fun ride, which I made competitive every little chance I could get.  My goal was to beat certain groups of riders around Portland to collect the parts to a dog costume on the Tour de Lab.  The other riders may not have known we were competing, but I sensed that a few of them had the idea that we were maybe racing each other.  It was a great experience I will never forget.

I felt with my swimming background, my joy on the bike, and my pride of my non-stop 5k; along with many hours in the pool and gym, I was finally ready to complete my first triathlon.  (A goal that I got from watching a 300+ pound guy on Biggest Loser finish an Olympic distance triathlon. If he could do it, I could certainly do it.)  With a positive frame, hours of mental and physical preparation, and lots of research, I headed to Albany for my first attempt.  Of course I ended up with a nasty cold the day before the race.  With some pure magic and my first time eating pho... I woke up the next morning miraculously cured and ready to race.  I placed third place in my age group and division...  I was stunned.  Talk about a confidence boost.  It fueled the fire that took me all the way to where I am today.

Thousands of miles later I have conquered the 10K, 15K, Half Marathon, Full Marathon, and eventually the 50K.  Me.   Of all the people in the world, I became a runner.  I look back on that sad, confused, lonely, hurt girl and I wish I could travel back in time, give her a hug, and tell her it's going to be okay.  It's better than okay.  It's amazing.  Thanks to running I have found happiness in all forms.  I have found mental strength and will power that is stronger than I could have ever imagined.  I am in love with running.  I love to think about how my goals started as small as to just make it onto the fitness scoreboard, and have evolved into running 100 miles before my 30th birthday.  I can honestly say, I never thought I would be here; and I can't wait to see where I'm going.  Running has taken me on some amazing, fun, wonderful, emotional, powerful adventures.  The road to 100 has been a wonderful experience so far.  I can't wait to see what else is in store for me along the road.