Week 11 started off great!!! After my running epiphany my whole outlook changed. I felt renewed and confident and REALLY excited to tackle my 15 mile long run on Saturday, but then it began to rain. My sweet little Boro stayed very dry, but my parents who live nestled right outside of our nation's capital in Alexandria VA, well it began to rain, and it rained, and it rained, and it rained. Not a big deal. I mean it rains, but the constant construction in my parents neighborhood doesn't allow anywhere for the water to go. 5 years ago they had 3 feet of water enter their home. Thursday night I got the call that they had been evacuated and the water was rapidly rising. Tears welled in my eyes as I spoke to my mother "Katie it's just stuff. We'll be fine." My parents and their 74 year old neighbor made their way to higher ground. They listened to rain the pelt the ceiling as they attempted to sleep, with every drop the uncertainty of what the morning would bring set in. The sun tried to come out, but the rain kept falling. My folks returned home in a light drizzle to find their basement covered in mud, muck, and mayhem. Mother Nature had been kind this time, but she still left nearly 6 inches of rain and mud.
I haven't talked much about my family, which is a real shame because I have 3 amazing sisters, Spartan Sister, The Scholar, and Miss Independence. My parents are pretty awesome to. My dad spent 27 years serving our country while my mother hand raised us girls. My mom is the world's mother. Ask anyone who has met her. The moment she meets you, you instantly become family. She embodies all that is right in the world. She is kind. She is loving. She is giving. She is better than ice in the desert. ALL of my friends respect and love my mom, some even more than their own mothers. She is just all that a mother should be, and she shares it in every hi, every hug, every handshake (The hand shake is rare. She's definitely a hugger). My mother is also a rock. Several years ago she lost one of the most pinnacle people in her life. Miss Lin was a beautiful soul that my mother took refuge in. At her funeral my mother didn't shed a tear. She comforted her children and others around her. She was graceful, dignified, and compassionate, even when on the inside she was crumbling, she put others first. She always does. She always will. That's my mom.
I missed my mom's call Friday afternoon because I was at Chick-Fil-A with my girls and my in-laws. My mom has taught me to treasure every second with my kids. Baby M FINALLY overcame her fear of the "big slide". I heard my phone, but watching my daughter slide with pride took precedence. My mom taught me to value these precious moments. After about 15 times down the slide I checked my phone. I listened to my voicemail and my stomach fell to the floor. It was my mom. She was crying. She asked me to come home. I stood there for a moment frozen. My mother, in my whole 32 years has never been broken or vulnerable. I immediately called her back. In classic mom style she was collected and told me she was ok, and it was silly for me to come. My mom recently lost her mother, and the flood washed away some tangible memories for her. When she found the rain soaked, mud stained journals of my grandma's my mom took off her cape and became a daughter. My mother has always been super mom. In that brief message, she wasn't a mother, but a daughter mourning the loss of her mother.
Long story short, the next day I was on a plane back to the rolling hills of VA. My in-laws took my ladies, and I spent the week helping my parents clean up. When I should have been crushing 15 miles I was boarding my flight to DC. I may not have been running, but I sure was working!! I think I sweated more loading and unloading their basement than I have during this training process!! My short runs consisted of carrying boxes and loading furniture, which I almost killed my 63 yr old father with a 7 foot craft cabinet!!!!
I did get to my 15 miler mid week. After we had them "settled" back in, my mom dropped me at the Mt. Vernon trail. My run started at Dyke's Marsh and I ran to Mt. Vernon and back. What a beautiful run. The sun was rising over the marsh as I headed out. I was taken back at the beauty that surrounded me. The date was September 14, 2011. My mind began to remember what I was doing 10 years prior.
On September 14, 2001 I was glued to the television along with the nation. Watching, waiting, quietly accepting that there would be no more survivors. It was too late. They have been in there too long, but myself like everyone else I remained hopeful. Three days earlier I woke up to a phone call from the Scholar Sister. The night before had been a "long" one, I was a mere 22. My roommate and I had celebrated her bday so 9:50 in the am was EARLY,especially when our heads hit the pillows in the wee hours of the morning. I think I was still drunk when the Scholar asked me "Are you watching the news?" I laughed and responded "Why the hell would be I be watching the news??" I turned on my television and saw the smoke. I saw the fire and my sister said, "We can't find dad". My father had a meeting at the Pentagon that morning. Instantly I was sober, paralyzed in fear. I called work and told them I would be late. I drove to work with tears streaming down my face. It stung and it burned. My heart stung and it burned. What if my dad is hurt? What if my dad is gone? I couldn't reach either of my parents. I don't remember much of the timeline that followed, but I remember getting to work and everyone looking at me. A tear stained 20 something with no idea if her dad was hurt? on fire? worse? What seemed like an eternity passed. My manager Karen ran from the back office and told me my mother was on line 1 and my family was accounted for. I will never forget when my mother said to me "Daddy's meeting was cancelled. He is fine." I fell to my knees. I sobbed. I cried more than any rain has ever filled a basement. I was relieved. Still frozen with fear, but relieved. I wanted to go home, but my mom told me to "stay put". I know she said these words to me because in that moment Statesboro, GA was seemingly safer than DC.
That Christmas I visited the Pentagon. It was still burnt and a giant flag covered the remnants of my innocence, my sense of security, and the peaceful world as I knew it. My family was so lucky on September 11, 2001. When I booked my flight for September 10, 2011 my stomach quivered, like so many others "I can't wait to go home". Ten years. Thousands of lives. One changed heart. In the days that followed 9-11 I coined my mantra, Love Big or Be little. I learned in an instant, like we all did, that life can change in an instant. My family was sparred the grief and the lifelong feeling of loss. I learned that day to love each and every day, even the bad ones. I was in DC on the 10 year anniversary. I attended the Warrior Walk at Arlington Cemetery. During the service's prayer a plane flew over head, I wasn't scared. I felt safe and protected, a feeling that took nearly 10 years to obtain, but it was there. I honored the lives that were lost that horrific day and honored the men and woman that have died giving me back my sense of security, my peace of mind. It was a beautiful morning September 11, 2011. A beautiful somber morning. As I waited for the metro I thought of the footsteps I am filling. Mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, all stood on the same platform headed to work on beautiful September morning.
It was a great trip home. The circumstances of the trip weren't the most favorable, but the trip itself was amazing. The people affected by the flood were incredibly positive. I saw neighbors helping neighbors, people laughing through tears, a feeling that empowered a nation 10 years prior. I was going to ask everyone who reads my words to donate to $26.20 to a charity of their choice in my daughters' name, but after this weekend I was reminded of the importance of time. As that sense of security has crept back the unconditional love of our neighbors has diminished. Instead of giving $$$ I am asking you to give your time. If you read my blog or happen to read it just this one, I am asking you to give 26.2 hours of your time over the next year. Give it to whomever you please, but save your cash and give your time. Email my girls via my email and tell them about YOUR 26.2! Your time is more valuable than money, and our time is a gift. A gift so many families wished they still had. Honor your time. Love Big or Be little.
Weeks 11&12: 26 miles
Lessons learned: Our time is gift that is meant to given.
Kjasionowski@hotmail.com
Please share with my girls how you spent your 26.2
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