My first half marathon: A time of reflection and remembrance

I decided to run a half marathon this year because it seemed like a goal that I could work towards and actually accomplish.

At the moment I’m in the middle of reading four different novels. I’ve started writing three different books, but have yet to finish writing any. And I can’t even count the number of sewing projects that I am in the midst of completing.

I’m good at starting things. I start lots of things. But when it comes to following through to the end, I struggle.

I signed up for the Garmin Half Marathon in January. The race took place this last weekend.

I signed up for the half marathon because I wanted a goal to accomplish, but in the weeks leading up to the race, the half marathon took on a deeper meaning.

A friend I had known since grade school was killed, along with her 5-year-old daughter and husband. When tragedy occurs it has a way of putting things into perspective, of re-framing our reality.

I dedicated my run to my friend Terry. I remember spending the night at Terry’s house in fifth grade. We listened to Ace of Bace and talked about boys. Our friendship drifted a part in middle school, as friendships sometimes do. But Terry was the kind of person who you always seemed to feel close to, no matter how infrequently you spent time together.

I can best describe Terry as kind, poetic, spiritual and genuine. In high school our boyfriends were best friends and we both worked on the school newspaper. Terry had a calming energy that she brought with her wherever she went.

I only saw Terry a few times after high school. It’s been years since I’ve audibly heard her voice. But through the magic of Facebook we’ve been able to keep in touch. Terry is one of the few people who I know actually read my blog.

As I’m writing this now, I really can’t believe that she won’t be reading it. It just doesn’t seem real. Last year, before I started this blog about bipolar disorder, I wrote a weekly blog for Her Kansas City’s website.

When you are a writer good comments are like prized medals. You tuck them away and then go back and look them when you are feeling down.

I posted this blog last February about my obsessive thoughts. I went back to look at the comment Terry posted, because it was one of those comments that I cling to whenever I get down.

Terry Thompson Prestley: I LOVE reading your blogs!!!! Your honesty with yourself is pretty darn inspiring! I think for those of us who think like this about our own thoughts can totally relate! And....you are freaking hilarious!

I don’t think I’m quite as witty and entertaining as Terry thought I was. But Terry had a special gift of enabling people to see the best of who they are. She lifted people up when others brought them down.

As I ran the Garmin Marathon I had plenty of time for prayer and reflection. (Two hours, 28 minutes, and 59 seconds to be exact.) What stood out to me the most was that in life you don’t know where the finish line is. And sometimes it crosses you before you cross it.

As I went into the last mile of the race I picked up my speed and lengthened my stride. I didn’t finish fast but I finished strong.

The great thing about half marathons is that no matter how you finish- whether you stride through gracefully or walk limply across the finish line- in the end you receive your medal and are invited to the after party.

I believe the same is true for life. At the end our finish line I think God is there to welcome us with loving arms and invite us to His party. I know Terry is there now and her spirit lives on in the memories we shared.

March is over but the mania has yet to begin

I like to think of myself like Wichita State with the possibility to shock the nation.

The thing everyone loves about March Madness and the NCAA Final Four tournament is that you never know what will happen. Every game is anybody's game. Upsets happen. Second half come backs abound.

The fast paced, unpredictability of college basketball make it the best sport ever. Seriously.

Teams recruit, prepare and practice, but come game time anything can happen. There is no rhyme or reason.

This lack of predictability reminds me so much of my journey with bipolar disorder, particularly depression. I try so hard, perhaps too hard, to avoid depression. I workout regularly, and even signed up for a half marathon to give myself that extra jolt of motivation. I cut preservatives (or almost cut preservatives) from my diet. I pray. I shop. I get my hair done.  I spend time with friends and family. I take my meds and eat plenty of fruits and vegetables. I do all of the things that one should do to stay healthy and depression free.

I often feel like depression shouldn't happen to me. I am Kansas against Michigan. I have this game in the bag late in the second half. I should win this.

But just like Kansas, I don't always win the game. Depression over powers me, despite my best attempts, despite all that life has blessed me with.

And who am I kidding. I can't really compare myself to Kansas basketball.

I'd love to have the humor and wit of Anne Lamott and Tina Fey or the character development of Joyce Carol Oates. Those three writers are the caliber of Kansas basketball. I'm more like Wichita State, someone most people have never heard of but who has the potential to shock the nation in the big dance.

Of course, in my case the big dance isn't basketball it's simply life. And we already know that Wichita State didn't beat Louisville. They won't be national champions this year, but they did shock the nation and make it to the Final Four.

The Shockers success gives me hope in my own ventures. I think I do have what it takes to overcome these bouts of depression- the support, the proper medication, the will power. I think I'll get through these ups and downs.

And who knows, I might pull a Wichita State along the way, and write something spectacular that will shock the nation. I believe it's possible and it's not mania talking.