By Emily Oehler, AW2 Stratcom

I am not a runner. I have never been a runner. I will never be a runner. Runners cut through air and across distance gracefully. Runners are gazelles in fancy techno shoes. Me, I pound the pavement – literally, all my pounds hit the road slowly, painfully, slowly, gasping, slowly, drenched, slowly. I am more of a religious jogger … I constantly pray for a flatter road, less humidity, time to go faster, the torture to stop, an easier way to get into shape, and occasionally, that one day, I could be a gazelle rather than a Clydesdale.

Somehow, I got roped into “running” the Army 10 Miler. It seemed like a good motivator for holding me to some kind of training schedule. But just to be safe, I got a coach – someone to ensure this Clydesdale stayed on course.

First I got up to 30 minutes. Then 45 minutes. Then hill repeats. Then, the dreaded “long runs.” Six miles? I gave my coach the scrunchie face. Six miles? He offered helpful hints like gel packs, jelly beans, water, stretching, what to download to listen to, nutrition, and rest. Although nice to know, none of it made 6 miles sound any better. I knew I just had to suck it up and do it. One step and then another. Over and over and over and over again.

I hit the road and tried a new approach. Whenever I got whiney, I thought about an AW2 Soldier, Veteran or Family member that I’ve met over the past 2 years. I would think about their story – a few have shared with me the details of the day they were injured…

One soldier was pulled from a vehicle and laid on the ground so others could be rescued – she became surrounded by locals (who turned about to be friendly) but at the time she feared she’d be kidnapped by them and beheaded

One soldier saved another’s life and in doing so became soaked in diesel fuel and eventually caught on fire and now has third degree burns on 30% of his body

One soldier was thrown from his turret, impaled when he landed and then shot multiple times – he has hundreds of tiny shrapnel pieces still inside him

When my legs got tired, I would think about the injuries they have worked through – and continue to. They couldn’t choose to stop or they would not walk or talk again. One mile I looked at my manicured hands and thought of several burned Soldiers who have lost fingers or the use of them.

When the boredom set in, I thought about the Families. The wife who took care of the other burn patients who were single while her husband spent a year in the hospital. The mom, who after 4 years of providing constant care to her paraplegic son, was able to take her first trip as he can finally stay at home alone. The daughter who doesn’t know another kid like her-whose dad doesn’t act the same because of TBI.

When I think of what these folks have survived, worked through and live with, I stopped praying for a flatter road, less humidity, time to go faster, the torture to stop, an easier way to get into shape and started praying for them. I have realized that when you support someone else, your own woes seem to disappear. I was shocked at the ease of my 6 miles. For a split second, I felt like a gazelle – at least on the inside.

So, I ask that you support me as I run my first Army 10 Miler this Sunday… support me by picking one Soldier, Veteran or Family member to pray for during each mile of the race. Pray that they will have less pain. Pray that they will take their first step and their second. Pray that their marriage stays strong. Pray that they have laughter. Pray that they will accomplish their goal. Pray that they find peace. Pray that they feel the support of a grateful nation.

See you at the finish line.