Going Gump on Sunday's Events

TNR (Tuesday Night Run) has become one of my favorite weekly events.  I have only missed one or two since the first of April.  I'm getting stronger.  I'm getting leaner (even though the scale disagrees).  I'm being consistent.  Consistency is good.

Last night, the run was more mentally therapeutic than physically challenging.

Some of you may know, that my Sunday bike ride this week was dramatic.  We were out doing the Bud Plant 48 miler (which we've learned how to make into a 50 miler and remove the infamous "six-dog hill" from the equation.)  At about mile 45, one of my friends did a face plant on the asphalt.  I was about 45 seconds behind her and the rest of the group was probably 45 seconds ahead of us.  Emotionally, it was rough going.  She was unresponsive as I approached.  By the time I unclipped and got to her, she was barely moaning.  She's okay, but finished her ride in the back of a Bartow Co. EMS.  I was pretty shaken up, too. 

Coming up on your friend in that state is very hard. I didn't do everything perfect.  There are things I should have done differently.  In the middle of a crisis, I held it together.  I got her taken care of.  I did the right thing.

On my way home from Cartersville, the emotional side got the better of me.  I needed to talk to someone about how I was feeling.  I felt wrong to call another group member to put it out there.  Because our friend was still in the ER.  It made me feel selfish.  

I tried to talk to my husband about it.  He didn't react very well.  He became fixated on the point of the story that she and I were "alone" at that point in the ride.  He was deaf on anything else.

So, for almost two days, I bottled it up.  Nightmares, anxiety, guilt.  I've run the gamut of emotions over this.  People keep saying "hero," and that just makes me feel uncomfortable. 

As two of my running buddies and I headed down Peachtree to run what we refer to as the "Reverse Arden," it all just came spilling out.  For two miles, they just let me babble about every thought about the whole ordeal.  They were supportive.  They were reassuring.  It was quite frankly what I needed. 

My friend is okay.  A 'mild concussion' and some pretty nasty road rash on her face.  She says she feels like someone hit her side with a baseball bat - or a big piece of asphalt.  She's off the bike for at least two weeks (which hurts at less than 10 weeks to Augusta).   I get to get back on my bike tomorrow night (at the Silver Comet Bike Depot) and get over the anxiety I have about the bike.   It won't be a 'fast' ride - it'll be about regaining some confidence that was compromised on Sunday. 

Truthfully, I'm tired of talking/thinking/rehashing all this right now.  So, in the immortal words of Forrest Gump...

"And, that's all I got to say about that."