Marathon Motivation

Motivation and inspiration have proven to be two important components in my journey to training for a marathon. Journey has become the best word to describe my marathon training because it has been full of ups and downs, twists and turns and has given me insight into myself that I did not realize before. I have needed both inspiration and motivation to get me through each step on the journey, but sometimes they are the hardest things to find.

Inspiration and motivation can come from many different places. It can come from work, movies, music but for me it has come from those closest to me. Ever since I was much younger I have watched different members of my family run marathons. For many years, I watched my cousins and uncle run The Pikes Peak Marathon and the St. George Marathon. I would hear stories about all of the other races they had run across the country and how accomplished and amazing they felt after finishing each race. I was inspired by their strength and determination to cross the finish line of such a long and demanding race. I made a promise to myself that one day I too would run a marathon. I never imagined myself winning a marathon or even coming close to winning. What I envisioned is crossing the finish line after running the entire 26.2 miles and feeling that sense of pride in myself, that pride that I had seen in the faces of my cousins and uncle when I was younger.

When I was in high school I started running. I had always been very active playing sports and dancing, so running long distances was not a difficult thing to attempt. During the season of my senior year in high school I fractured my Tibia. I started noticing a lot of pain in my lower leg. Doctors told me that I had shin splints from all of my dancing, running and playing sports, but I would be fine as long as I did not push it too hard and rested it for a week. After a week of rest, I started back to all of my activities but was still in pain. It took many doctors visits, X-Rays, and MRIs to find the problem: a fractured tibia. It had started out as a small stress fracture that continued to get worse the more active I was. I had to be on crutches for three months during the winter of my senior year and in an air cast for another month after until it was finally healed. Unable to compete in any of my sports my senior year in high school and missed out on all of my dance and Pom competitions devastated me.

Mobility Gratitude

By Jessica Gingold

Tonight, after too many vinyasas to count, a wobbly, but convincing headstand, low lunges, high lunges, half splits, full splits and the happiest baby pose you could imagine, I was instructed to thank myself. I was told to have gratitude for my healthy body that allows me to do all the physical activities I want. In that moment, I was grateful. I was grateful for the practice I had just had. I felt a deep strength in the prior 90 minutes I rarely encounter in the day-to-day. Still, underneath that gratitude, I felt a sadness. The truth is, my body is limited. I can do yoga, but frog pose hurts. I can walk briskly, but it’s been ages since I went on a run.

From age eight to eighteen, I spent more time gliding on ice than walking. I never fully fit into the competitive figure skating world. My first skating outfits were bought at a dance store from the sale bucket. I had a skating dad, thus I did my own French braids and they were often a little lopsided. One of my early programs was to Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin; even when I would skate a clean program, the judges never really warmed up to it. I did not cut back on school to pursue my dream of going to the Olympics. Still, I was a figure skater.

Skating was my outlet and my balance. I was a straight A student with a social justice activist family. Most minutes of life were full of intense, complex ideas. When I was on the ice, it was just me. I loved the challenge. I was never the best skater, but I was solid. I landed my double axel early, and successfully earned my gold medal in Moves in the Field and Freestyle. When I was 16, I had to write about my spirituality for my progressive Unitarian church group. God is still something I am growing to understand, so at age 16, God was not the subject. Instead, I wrote about the transcendent feeling of landing a clean double axel. So while I was perhaps a non-traditional skater, it was deep in my soul.

When I got to Colorado College, the first order of business was setting up the Colorado College Figure Skating Club. Our club went on to host two regional competitions and several shows. However, I never got to compete freestyle at our competitions.

Just snap them off for a bit…PLEASE!!!

By Nancy Ester-Sager

That’s my lifetime plea, but of course I know I can't just snap off my legs. If I did, I'd probably misplace them. I must have been meant to do something with them, or they wouldn't be mine.

They are mine!! They hurt. They fight me, and I would never trade them.

Up until recently, I have felt like I belong (or didn't belong) in two different worlds, the disabled world, and the normal world. Now I realize I am in the right world, it’s not like anybody else's. It’s just mine, and it's the exactly where I need to be.

I have a condition called Myotonic Muscular Dystrophy. At first glance, I don't look like I have anything wrong, but very few muscles in my body have the ability to ever fully relax. I have often become dizzy from the pain that it causes me. I can get very stiff and have difficulty getting my brain and my body to work together. I prefer to think of myself and my body as two different things, because that is exactly what they are.