Living Outside the Lines: From Halo to Half Marathon

By, Becky J Miller

A friend once referred to runners as a tribe.  Since dictionary.com defines a tribe as any aggregate of people united by ties of descent from a common ancestor, community of customs and traditions, adherence to the same, leaders, et cetera the term fits.  As with any tribe, the members are usually easily recognizable by some common thread, and runners are no exception. 

If you regularly put on special clothes, purposefully set out with the intention of exercising, and put one foot in front of the other, at a pace faster than walking, then you qualify.  Being part of the tribe is so easy and the community relationships built over time are definitely a fringe benefit.

Running takes you places you might never have traveled and yokes you to people you might never have met.  A very good friend of mine meets a group of her friends in Dayton, Ohio each year for the Air Force Half Marathon.  After I started running distance, I kind of invited myself to tag along. 

What follows are a few pages from my journal, so to speak, about that trip.  Something to bear in mind while reading, this was the first half marathon I ran after I broke my neck in 2011 & spent three months recovering with a titanium halo surgically attached to my head (see Living Outside the Lines: “The Story of a Warrior Princess”, November 2015).

At 5 a.m. September 15, 2012, an alarm clock interrupted my peaceful sleep.  The day I had spent ten months preparing for had finally arrived.  I yawned, stretched and stealthily sent my travel pillow flying across the room nailing my friend as she dressed in the dark.  

I knew it was going to be a great day.  Despite the fact that I had broken my neck ten months earlier and struggled through much of my race training, I wasn’t anxious about the day’s events.

It was a clear, crisp 48 degrees in Dayton as we loaded the car and headed for Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. I spent my pre-race time smiling, laughing and chatting with the group of runners who had graciously invited me into their circle.  For them, this was an annual event, for me, it was a stake in the ground; an act of defiance aimed at the circumstance that almost ended my life.

The start was mass chaos; it took about ten minutes from where we lined up to actually cross the start line. I stayed with my friends who were planning to walk the 13.1 miles until we reached the starting mat, waved good-bye, and set off to run my race. And run my race I did.

I knew there would be no personal record or age division awards; this race was about being present and finishing.  I kept my pace slow, steady, and comfortable.  Right before the race started I realized my MP3 player hadn’t held a charge so I would have to run sans music, but I didn’t even let that upset me.  Instead, I spent the time thanking God that I was alive and able to run.

That morning, it was like I was enveloped in a cloud of serenity.  The crowds didn’t bother me, the lack of music didn’t faze me, my body never grew weary, my neck and shoulders didn’t tense up; I never struggled.  

Well, maybe I struggled a little; there was a crazy, steep hill right after mile marker 8.  It was right about that time I got the brilliant idea to use Pandora on my phone and just turn up the volume as loud as possible.  The phone was tucked in an SPI belt around my waist, but miraculously I could still hear it.

As the miles passed, I could tell I was on track to beat the time from my first half marathon in October 2010.  That made me smile.  About mile 11 it really started to hit me that I was almost finished with the race, a race I almost did not live to run.  My emotions nearly got the best of me, I started hyperventilating and I decided I should shelve those reflections for after I crossed the finish line.

Finally, the finish line came into sight.  It was a cruel finish because runners have to run parallel to the finish, then turn and run some more before actually crossing it.  I could see it, but it felt like I would never actually reach it.  

But I did cross it, in 2 hours and 26 minutes, 2 minutes faster than my first pre-accident half!!  The only thing missing was that my biggest fan wasn’t waiting for me at the finish.  Imagine the thrill I got checking my phone post-race, and discovering that my husband had paid to track my progress live during the race and was cheering me on via virtual updates.

That race is behind me now. Many more have followed, and still, I marvel at how my body healed after such trauma.  I have no doubt that running gave me a goal, something to work towards during the healing process.  Running definitely strengthened my sense of community during the recovery. 

Maybe one of these days I’ll write a book telling the entire story & call it, “From Halo to Half Marathon and Beyond!”

Until Next Time,

Becky J Miller

“Warrior Princess”