Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Santa Rosa Half Marathon Recap: The Race I Didn't Run

So, the title may have folks thinking, "Oh, she's going to tell us about she took it easy and enjoyed the moment and learned something nifty about herself and running all at the same time."


I actually didn't participate in the race.

I was supposed to run the half marathon component of the Santa Rosa Marathon . This would have meant leaving my home at 5:15 in the morning, driving an hour or so away, and then, you know, running 13.1 miles. I've done it before. No biggie.


3:20 a.m. happened, and with it, a 6.1 earthquake (that's glass on my bib...there was more but I moved it before thinking to snap a picture...priorities).

Let me start by saying that we are fine.  We only lost stuff - most of it not even really that important - yes, I appreciate the friends and family who lovingly purchased our wedding china and glassware, but we can certainly live without those items. We have lived without the china for the whole time we've been married - though it's lovely to see it on the hallway shelves, tempting me to host a fancy dinner party.

I remember Loma Prieta. I was standing outside in Suisun, close enough to feel the quake, far enough away to not have damage, playing with my neighborhood friends, and the world shook for an unnervingly long time. Parents came out of houses. My mom cried as Candlestick Park broke apart before her eyes on the television screen. And then it was over.

Having experienced the Napa Quake as a PARENT, though, is immensely different than experiencing a big quake as a child.  And the end of the quake isn't the full ending.

My husband and I woke up. I was screaming when I woke up - never a good sign. I heard glass shattering and breaking, and I knew that was not at all like Loma Prieta.  We would have to clean up. Others might have been hurt.

Within seconds, my husband put on shoes and hopped across china shards into our son's room.

"Make sure the picture didn't fall on him."

Because I'm pinterest-y, there was a picture frame of my son's first initial created out of buttons hanging over the crib.  It feel behind the crib, and it's NEVER going back up over my sweet boy's bed again.

My son was in my arms probably less than a minute after the quake, "What dat noise, Mommy?"

I told him it was an earthquake and he told me he wanted to go play with Legos. So, he's doing just fine.

We hopped on our phones to text our families and friends and broadcast our safety over the interwebs.

I gingerly walked, in shoes, over the glass and put my son back to bed.

It went something like this.

"Want to play!"

"Want to go play wit my Legos."

"Want to go play wit my traaaactor."

He chatted through a few lines of "Amazing Grace," and, then...


I know other parents brought their kids into bed with them, and I would have done that if my child were capable of falling asleep in our bed - I would have loved his chorus of requests for toys and books and muffins, because after a fright like that, any word he said was a treasure to me - but I needed to let the toddler sleep.

I knew I wouldn't be getting up to race. We had glass shards all over the house, no power, and a toddler who would be up of his own accord in just a few hours.  So, I told my ride I wouldn't be meeting her - My God, we were supposed to meet in downtown Napa, near the worst of the damage.

And we tried to sleep. We stayed in bed through texts and phone calls and Facebook messages. I gripped the bed during the 5:30 after shock.

And, finally, it was daylight, and I brought our son into our room to play with his beloved Legos while my husband swept up the glass and we started to put our lives back together.

Others have more to clean or rebuild or buy, and I am grateful that all we lost are things.

I'm still anxious. After shocks have me unnerved, but I know that everything will be okay and that there will be another race to run another day (and race organizers were kind enough to defer entries for those of us impacted by the earthquake).

Forget mile times, hydration packs, and race belts,  for now, I'm going to build some big, big towers and breathe my way through the aftershocks.

1 comment:

  1. Wow that is so scary! I'm glad you and your family are okay and that you were able to get your race deferred.


Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.