Oklahoma City Memorial

Marathon Monday: Race Recap #1

April 28, 2014

Describing my experience of running the OKC Memorial Marathon could easily take me days. Weeks. Months. Till next year’s marathon. There’s so much to tell! It was truly spectacular, and I am absolutely doing again.

The health Expo ahead of the race was lots of fun too! So happy my friend M came to town to join!

That sums it up, really. This was my first full, not a one-time shot like I’d been saying lately. Yesterday was hopefully the first of many, and though on the slow side, I met my goal of finishing it at forty years old. Oh, and this is part of my basic sum-up too: If any little tiny part of you is even vaguely curious about tackling a distance run, PLEASE DO IT.

Find a few things to inspire you, whether reading motivational books or collecting photos or making social connections or whatever.
Nibble at your training in fun ways, setting incrementally longer distance goals.
Think positively and imagine amazing things. Dragons, for instance. You could imagine dragons.
Then gradually luxuriate in the four million benefits of running (yes I counted them). Watch your life bloom in ways you have not yet considered.

Okay. So. How could this story go?

I could tell you the funny stuff that happened yesterday. There was a lot of funny stuff… I laughed so much. And according to sly photos taken by Handsome when I didn’t even know he was around, I smiled for most of the five and a half hours. I mean, when I wasn’t crying. I did cry a few times. I cried hot tears from deep, sudden pangs of sadness, oddly, not physical pain. But mostly I laughed. Fun wins over sadness by a landslide.

Running is the best!! Big thanks to my friend Steph for this fun photo. I may not have great form, but I do have great fun.

Or I could stress the 90 minute race delay and paint you a lush portrait of the tense weather predictions leading up to Sunday morning, helping those of you outside of our Great State understand the volatility and un-trustworthiness of our springtime patterns. If I took that route (see what I did there?) I’d also describe in detail the rapid weather changes on Sunday morning between 6 and 8:30 a.m. then tell you about the start time delays and all the precipitating (did it again) effects this had on the race. The morning’s communal feeling of suspense will not soon be forgotten. Remember my dream a few nights ago, about standing beneath the Devon tower during a black-sky thunderstorm, wondering why the race hadn’t started yet? I knooooowwwww. Creepy.

The Devon tower in downtown OKC, surrounded thickly by black, churning clouds. Friends, this is exactly how my dream looked, minus one broad band of lightning. — The Devon tower in downtown OKC, at 7:30 Sunday morning, surrounded by thick, black, churning clouds. Friends, this is exactly how my dream looked, minus one broad band of lightning.

Oooooorrrrr I could tell you about all the amazing runners in my life who have inspired me over and over again, for months. Years. And how Handsome and M and my family and a dozen of our dearest friends came to OKC to support me and fuel me with hugs, cheers, posters, applause, and LOVE right when I needed it most. They popped up all along the course, and it was amazing! I love each of you for it, thank you! Four times as many friends and loved ones stayed tuned to the race via social media and have drenched me with loving words ever since. So, basically, I run for the hugs. Not ashamed of that.

I could whine a bit about my slight but worrisome knee pain around mile 14 or the one blister I suffered (which is already healed as I write this Monday morning) or how quickly I inhaled chicken enchiladas after the race. Or how divine watermelon tasted around 6 pm yesterday.

Do you really want to know how difficult it is to walk downstairs right now,but how much I love that strange ache?

Would you rather know the details of how uncannily my music playlist synced with my emotions and experiences during the race? It was cool as beans how the shuffle setting worked for me. You guys, the perfect motivational or hilarious songs played at the most perfect moments, it was crazy!

My Grandpa called me around mile 9. He had no idea I was running the marathon, just needed a mailing address he thought I would remember. So I gave it to him then we chatted about our gardens and how much we loved each other and promised to see each other soon. I did not mention the race, because it would totally have spoiled the sweet phone call. Plus it was really refreshing to talk about something completely different for a few minutes. We have kind of been on “marathon saturation mode” for a while, you know?

Do you want to hear about my friends who might now be training for their own firsts? This is like butter cream icing on a perfect vanilla cake, you guys. To have received inspiration from so many people and now to be sharing that inspiration with people near me is a pretty phenomenal feeling. It’s all energy that moves and trembles and generates life. It is contagious and powerful, and I love it.

Handsome showered me with gifts at the finish line! A dozen red roses, potted hot pink petunias, chocolate, strawberry Twizzlers, protein bars, a brand new hardback journal containing an epic love letter, a stability ball, and more. I am spoiled rotten and I know it. xoxo

I have no clue what you guys want to read about! So for the next few days, just to get the memories recorded, I will be rambling a lot about this spectacular experience. If it’s not interesting to you, I totally get it. Please feel free to tune in again sometime next weekend. If you do want to know something, send me a note!

Love, Me
Officially in Training for 2015
XOXOXOXO

This Time Last Year…

April 17, 2014

This week Mama Kat wonders what we were blogging about this time last year. Hhhmmm… You’ll never guess…

In April 2013 I was writing pretty much the same things I would be writing now, if I were talking time to write lately.

The Lazy W had just adopted Seraphine and we were waiting for a llama to be born. And I was still in my thirties. I’m no longer in my thirties, but once again we are waiting for a baby!

Note: This was before Dulcinea came along, so Romulus still allowed the horses a reasonable proximity to his woman. This peaceful coexistence was short lived, though. — Note: This was before Dulcinea came along, so Romulus still allowed the horses a reasonable proximity to his woman. This peaceful coexistence was short-lived, though.

I was super enthusiastic about helping some legislation pass in Oklahoma that made it easier for local beekeepers to share and sell their product. It did pass, by the way! And I realized that once in a while I could write something useful, something practical. I was happy to see that writing could become something even more than catharsis.

That month, just like now, I was planting early veggies and bemoaning the transient Oklahoma weather. We had a whopper of a storm season, to put it mildly.

In that month I reviewed books like Khalil Gibran, Typee, and Don Quixote. I did lots of outdoor reading, before our buffalo had destroyed those two awesome loungers. D-E-S-T-R-O-Y-E-D, you guys.

I was random as usual and loved me some cowbell. Back then I was still subbing younger kids once in a while, not yet aware of how greatly I would prefer the junior high kids and their much earlier schedule. In defense of little kids, though, they do write more love notes.

The Boston Marathon was bombed, and of course we all were reeling from the horrific losses. I had little to say except an encouragement to increase our joy. Only light drives out darkness. Still believe that.

And, finally, just like I did this year (until recently), I had a big ol’ juicy case of nerves over the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon. 2013 was my first half and I was pretty much a basket case. But you know what? It was amazing! I had such a blast; the run itself was easier than I expected; and I was hooked on big, fun, meaningful races, particularly this one. Forever. A few days after that event I wrote about how it all had improved my outlook on life. Because I am cheesy like that.

Still cheesy.

So there ya go! That’s about what was going on at the digital Lazy W one year ago. Not too terribly different from what’s happening here now. What’s new (or not new) in your corner of paradise?

XOXOXOXO

Mama Kat's weekly link up is full of fun blogs, check it out! — http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/2014/04/things-that-make-me-happy/

Harvey’s Story, part 1

April 11, 2014

The 19th anniversary of the Oklahoma City Murrah Building bombing is fast approaching.
Handsome’s parents Harvey and Judy Wreath were both first responders to this tragedy,
and over these past several days Harvey has been gracious to sit and discuss with me
more of his memories and details from those weeks, many of which I had never heard before.
He also visited the Memorial Museum with Handsome and me,
which was a such a memorable experience.
Internalizing all of this history has made me want to run the marathon even more.

Following is the first in a series of three installments telling his and Judy’s story.

A DAY LIKE ANY OTHER

Early on the morning of April 19, 1995, Harvey was already hard at work at his auto body shop in Moore, about half an hour south of downtown Oklahoma City. The weather was calm and warm, the skies bright. Absorbed in repairing the fender, door, and front bumper of a Chevrolet pick up, Harvey heard an unbelievable boom then felt heavy vibrations. He knew immediately it was a significant explosion and wondered if it could be an oil tank. He stepped outside and saw dark, heavy smoke gulping into the blue Oklahoma sky.

Several minutes later, at 9:15 a.m., Harvey’s police receiver reported a large explosion at the Murrah Building in downtown Oklahoma City. The operator was requesting all officers for help. They were bracing for the possibility of something more. No one seemed to know what was happening.

At this time, in addition to running his auto body shop, Harvey was Police Chief of the town of Hallpark, Oklahoma. His wife Judy was his right arm in every part of life and also served as his police Sergeant. On duty that April morning, Judy heard the same radio calls for help and immediately brought her husband his police uniform. Together they drove in their township’s only patrol car north to Oklahoma City. They prayed together every mile of that drive and in minutes arrived at the gaping, shredded building now veiled in angry black smoke.

CHAOS & FIRST RESPONDERS, DAY ONE

By now Harvey knew it was something far worse than any gas explosion. Upon seeing the enormous wound on the front of the familiar building, he knew without a doubt that it had been a bomb. Harvey and Judy heard layers of horrified screams. They knew people were still trapped. The scene was absolute chaos.

On the north side of the block, Harvey and Judy found a gathering of police cars and, in uniform themselves, rushed to offer their help. Their first task was to keep people away from the building, but crowd control on this morning was far from easy. The people trying to get through the barrier were not yet spectators or tabloid photographers; they were downtown office workers searching for colleagues, friends, and spouses. They were parents and grandparents frantic to lay trembling hands on their babies who had just been dropped off at daycare in the building now laid to waste. Their job of crowd control was made increasingly difficult by the thick, gagging smoke and then by subsequent bomb scares. There was so much screaming.

By evening, the area at Sixth Street was crawling with military personnel, law enforcement, and scores of heavy equipment operators. Martial Law had been enacted but so far was a formality because everyone was already working together. Somewhere deep in the belly of this horrible scene, this fallout of evil not yet understood, a seed of hope was already germinating. Oklahoma was already responding to trauma with intense love and unflinching willingness to reach out, to work together.

True to form for springtime in Oklahoma, heavy thunderstorms rolled in around 8:30 p.m. The weather did not slow the rescue efforts. By 10:40 p.m. every survivor had been brought out of the cruel debris.

Harvey and Judy stayed on site until 9 p.m. that first night then drove home, stunned and exhausted. They had planned to return to the same job the next morning, but at 11 p.m. a phone call came from their friends at the Medical Examiner’s Office. Harvey and Judy were being asked to join a team of people to work in the temporary morgue. Additionally, Harvey was needed as head of Security for the team. They said yes without hesitation, just as they had done fourteen hours earlier.

Neither of them slept well that night. They rose the next morning at 7 a.m. and reported for sixteen hours of unprecedented work and sacrifice, the first of nineteen consecutive days that would change them forever.

Thank you for reading!
Harvey appreciates you reading, too,
and gaining a deeper understanding
of what Oklahoma experienced that April.
Please continue to check in for more installments.
XOXOXO

Marathon Monday: Why This Race?

April 8, 2014

It’s Marathon Monday again, but instead of talking about mileage and recipes, I’d like to tell you what race I’m running soon and why.

In nineteen days, thousands of people will gather in downtown Oklahoma City to run different events for the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon. People run for so many private reasons, but everyone runs this race both to remember history and to keep hope alive.

History

On April 19, 1995, the physical and emotional landscape of Oklahoma changed forever. A building was bombed; 168 innocent lives were lost and 680 more people were injured; and the lives of thousands of workers and first responders were changed forever. History was altered with the worst act of domestic terrorism yet in our country and ever in our state.

Everyone here has a story about that day. Where we were when it happened or when we heard the news. Who we knew that might have been downtown that day. Who was hurt. Who was lost. Even if you lived outside of Oklahoma at that time, you probably have details of that day seared into your memory. The images are indelible. Every single one of our stories is worth telling and remembering, and I hope you find ways to keep yours alive.

I was barely 21 years old, still living at home with my sweet parents and four younger siblings. We lived just a few miles north of downtown. I was just a few months pregnant with my first baby. When the bomb exploded I was leaning against the outside brick of my childhood home, feeding the dogs. The house shook. It shook hard, and the boom was unlike anything I’d ever heard. I remember feeling it in my ears and wondering what it could possibly be. The dogs were upset, but the morning was bright and warm and I was on a schedule. I drove on to my bank job which was even closer to downtown, and soon the reports started pouring in. The glass panes of the bank’s drive-through teller windows had shattered. The phone lines were down (remember that cell phones were rare then). No one knew exactly what had happened, but we all knew it was horrible. The sounds of emergency vehicles were a constant the rest of the day. We continued our work, sort of on auto pilot, sifting through scant news reports as we could. I didn’t know it yet, but my future parents in law were driving into the thick smoke ready to do anything that was needed.

My story pales quickly. All of my loved ones were safe. I was horrified but preserved. My story gradually braided into Oklahoma’s story, and over time we all became steeped in appreciation for the people who carried us from those shadows of evil to the brighter, calmer days of hope.

Hope

The story of hope and how it has flowered out of so much evil is a long one, and it could be told from thousands of different perspectives. Most people agree that Oklahoma showed her true colors in those weeks and in the years since, that we rose to the occasion and allowed light to drive our darkness as much as possible.

Of all the beautiful ways to tell the story of hope, I am honored to have the chance to tell it from the perspective of my father in law, Harvey Wreath. He and my mother in law, Judy, were both law enforcement officers at the time. Immediately after the bombing, they were summoned to help, and they did. They never flinched; they just went. And their lives were never the same after that.

This is one of the fences surrounding the bombing memorial. On race weekend, runners add their bibs to the letters, stuffed animals, flags, and flowers.

Over the years I have heard lots of stories from Handsome’s parents about the weeks they worked at the bombing site and about their changed years since. The view into their servants’ hearts has lent me a deep respect for these people who also happened to raise an incredible husband for me. Recently, though, Harvey agreed to sit quietly and talk with me at length about his experience as a first responder to the bombing. We plan to talk more as well as visit the Memorial Museum together. The fruit of this intimate labor has been wonderful. I hope you’ll stay tuned for his interviews, stories, and photos.

I am definitely running this race for them.

Until Next Week

While Harvey and I continue to delve into memory and meaning, you are invited to share your own story here. Whether you are from Oklahoma or somewhere else in this beautiful world, your story is important. Where were you? What were you doing? How did you hear the awful news that spring day nineteen years ago? Would you like to memorialize anyone? Do you have any questions?

Then in the coming couple of weeks, please check back here to read Harvey’s story and get a dose of Oklahoma pride and love for our first responders.

Thanks for visiting, friends.
Be gentle with each other and remember that
only light drives out darkness.
XOXOXOXO

A DAY LIKE ANY OTHER

CHAOS & FIRST RESPONDERS, DAY ONE

History

Hope

Until Next Week

Looking for Something?