For those who have been asking what exactly happened...

I looked at Matt and told him I'd be back in a hour. I was leaving for my weekly 6 mile run. I'd usually go on Monday, but I wanted to get it out of the way for the week, so I could sleep longer in between shifts. We kissed and he said be safe as he always does. How funny, as I started on my route, I decided to change my course a bit to be extra safe and stick to the  route that was majority sidewalk. It was a beautiful fall afternoon and I was about two miles from home and knew this route so well. I'm coming up to the light at my crosswalk ahead, I look all around to cross at the green light and see no one cars in sight. I step onto the road and as I'm crossing, after a few steps, a truck comes out of nowhere going fast and turning, coming at my face. We lock eyes and I have a split second to decide to jump up or go under, because I realize I'm about to be hit and can't escape it (I literally thought I could die). Fight or flight mode kicks in, and I jump up and forward and the next thing I know I'm thrown out, body spun around and sent onto the pavement. It was sudden, and my body and mind though so quick just seconds before, are at a standstill. I can't move. For the first time in years, I can't get up and run. I want to escape the fear, the pain, the overwhelming feelings all coming at me at once.

I was suddenly being held by a woman, who I later learned jumped out to help. She was like an angel to me and stayed by my side until help arrived and luckily saw everything. I have never been in such pain or so terrified in my life. Six weeks later and the memories are still as though it just happened.

How has this accident changed my life?

It's been six weeks of something I've never had to deal with...trauma, deep heartache and very real physical and emotional pain. I use a cane for the hip and not sure for how much longer. Some days I can walk, others I can't. Picking up my son or lifting him almost always results in pain and many times leaves me unable to walk.  Imagine, your 20th month old baby reaching his hands up to you and you having to decide between picking him up and holding him or walking the next hour, it is one of the worst feelings as a mother. And work I will just say has been rough and leave it at that.

But the emotional damage, oh the emotional and mental damage. PTSD is real. Until you've experienced it, you can't understand it. The flashbacks, nightmares, and panicking almost daily are sometimes  just overwhelming. At first it scared the mess out of me. I couldn't even pass by the scene and sometimes still can't without breaking down. I've never been the nervous type. I'm usually fairly calm and laid back. And there I was, a week post, breaking down, crying and many times feeling I was about to be hit again or die somehow. Or what about the dreams of being killed or my family being killed and the waking up in fear, a cold sweat and pure panic, unable to breathe and my husband having to hold me through inconsolable tears. I'll spare my mind and everyone else of the details I'd rather not have to relive for the moment. But for six weeks, this has been my life. Don't get me wrong, I'm beyond grateful to just even be here because surviving being hit by a truck and living to tell about in itself I know is a miracle of God.

And through all the pain and mental effects, I know my faith has been made real and I feel God's power filling me as I hold onto Him with all I have with every physical pain or emotional anguish I feel each day. Even still, I am human and I have a flood of feelings and emotions I must face as I move forward. I'm uncertain of so many things and as soon as I hit that pavement everything I thought I was certain of was lost.

This blog was started to share my journey from being an unhealthy young mom to a fit and healthy one. When I first post here, I was a fairly new runner who'd just shed a lot of weight doing it the right way, for once. And I wanted to help encourage other people to do the same. Running was my thing. Some people never got that, and some still don't. But it was my time, for me, away from the world. It was my coping mechanism. For almost 3 yrs, I have been a runner, starting with 1 mile all the way to the finish line of 26.2. It was how I coped with stress or any difficult time I faced these past few years. I ran when I needed to think, pray or just for fun. I was and I am passionate about it. Running changed my life for the better. And in a split second it was taken away. All my hard work for my race this coming weekend gone.

Running was not who I am, but it was a part of what made me who I am. I've run through many heartaches, happy times and against some serious odds, I completed a race some said I never could.

So as I write this, it's still not certain when I will run again. But I will. Doctors say I won't be "right" until I can be out on the road again. But one thing I do know for certain, God hasn't allowed me to experience all these difficult weeks without a reason. He has a plan. And He works ALL things for good as I repeatedly read in Romans. Some days it might be hard to accept it, like when I can't pick up my son, take my kids to the zoo, dance with Maddy in the living room or run. But even in the darkest moments I face, He still holds my hand and keeps me going, when I would not be able relying on my own strength.

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