Thursday, February 16, 2012

Dreams to Hood to Coast

There are times I let myself think ahead to a future when I'm no longer in pain. This masochistic exercise in daydreaming leads me to the same list of things over and over again.
*the day I can work again
*the day I begin to get steady paychecks
*the day I can go to a restaurant (and not hear all the background noise)
*the day I can go for a run (and not feel ice pick pain)
*the day I can talk after church (with out overwhelm)
*the first time I sleep through the night
So exciting right? big dreamer over here! But thats what I long for... really mundane things. Coming home from a long day, throwing my keys on the counter, pinching the bridge of my nose, and saying something typical like "you would not believe my coworkers."

**I know the over worked readers are thinking I'm nuts. Maybe it's the whole 'you don't know what you've got till it's gone' concept. I promise if you couldn't work, you'd miss it. I promise a few years into working the shiny finish will wear off and I'll want a break. (Oh, how green the grass is over there.)

BUT there is one other less-than-ordinary dream I have for my pain-free self, and that is to run the Hood to Coast Relay race in Oregon. (thank you Caitlin for planing the seed, you've created a monster)

Hood to Coast begins at Mt Hood, goes through Portland and continues a full 200 miles to the Pacific coast, ending on the beach at Seaside Oregon.

You run in teams of 12 and break the milage up into 36 legs. You travel in two vans and take turns sleeping, driving, running, eating for the full 30 or so hours it takes to complete the course.

Its supposedly one of the most awe inspiring views and one of the most fun experiences and one of the most challenging races... oh yeah, and one of the most concussion un-friendly things I can conceive of. To run this race would mean I am better. And to say I am fully better would be a statement so much bigger than a measly 200 mile race.

I don't care much if it takes over a decade before I get there, because this race is extraordinary. And yet, its something where I still want the mundane. I don't want any discussion about my pain or my health. I don't want sleeping shifts adjusted for my sake. I even want to be able to help out other people. I want it to be normal (in the midst of a really unique thing - does that make sense?)

I want to stand on the shore of the Pacific Ocean with eleven people I love - think for a fleeting second of the girl in bed, longing to be able to what so many people could do so freely - then smile because I'm one of them now... and head off to eat a hearty brunch.

note: please let me know if anyone reading this wants be standing there with me. You too can be save up for this ridiculous race on an indefinite date!


  1. At present, I can barely run up the stairs without getting winded. But I'll be on your team when you do this. Stamp it.

  2. When you get there, I'm running with you. :)