Angie's Story - Introduction
It may not seem like a real problem or such a big deal, and in some ways it is not. Being an athlete and runner especially eventually starts to become a part of you. It intertwines with your essence – your soul. And to lose that, feels like you have lost a part of yourself. Part of who you are, and it is like a death in many ways. It wasn’t just the running that got me. I have a history of depression. I was diagnosed with clinic depression as a teenager. I was anorexic and attempted suicide two times. Running was my therapy. It was what saved me back then and now that one thing I had to count on and regain my strength was stripped from me and that I was 15 years old again and hopeless.
I really started to realize that my life was starting to change in the summer of 2022.
I ran Sinister 7 (as I have many times before) with a team from work. I ran leg 5, but since it was the ‘reverso’ year, I ran third. I wasn’t supposed to run that leg. I switched with another girl about 3 weeks before because she was injured and she wanted to run leg 7, which was first that year. She wanted to switch with me because I like running longer distances and I run every day, so I was prepared. I am not sure if that was confidence, or they wanted to see me fall flat on my face (so to speak) and fail because I never really felt supported by them – on the team and at work itself.
If you are not aware of Sinister 7, it is an ultramarathon in Crowsnest pass, Alberta. You can run 100miles solo, 50miles solo, 50km solo, or the 100miles as a relay team. Each part of the course is sectioned out into “legs”, with timings in between each leg, that also very in length, and Sinister 7 has 7 legs. I have run solo a couple of times, unsuccessfully, and ran on a few teams more successfully. So when the opportunity to be part of a team, especially on a work team, I jumped to the opportunity. I love running so much and I take full advantage of any opportunity where I can run in the mountains.
Before the race, we all camped together. Even then, I noticed that I was a bit of a loner and not really included in discussions, etc. It was okay though; I have my son and husband with me. Both of them come to all my big races with me as my ‘crew’ and I appreciate that tremendously.
I started my leg around 12:00pm, which was actually a good time to start and it started great for me. I tackled (and won) the big hill at the start and continued on with a good pace. And then, I tripped on some loose rocks right before the first aid station. I didn’t think much of it at first. It wasn’t the first time I tripped and fell at a race and I basically shrugged it off. When I got to the aide station there were a few of close friends there who collectively gasped when they saw my knee. “Oh my God, Angie. Are you okay? Are you able to continue?” I immediately replied “ I am fine and yes, I will absolutely be able to continue.” When I didn’t notice (because I didn’t really look at my knee” was a big chunk of skin hanging down amongst the blood. I didn’t realize what the extent was because I was wearing KT Tape and thought it just ripped a bit. I cleaned it with some water and patched it was a band aide. Fortunately, it looked worse than it was. It was just the first few layers of skin, it wasn’t down to the bone. I then filled by pack, ate some cookies (my favorite) and went on my way.
I was to run immediately but later, my knee started aching and felt ‘weird’. I then stopped running and power hiked. I first thought for just a bit, but ended up basically hiking the rest of the way until I got to the highway where we had to cross. I ran across and onto the service road, which was gravelly and filled with potholes. In my stubbornness, and the fact that I was already close to two hours past my estimated time, I continued to run. I was quite impressed with the fact that I prevailed through the aching pain in my knee and then it happened…..again. I fell and landed on my other knee. This time there were little rocks imbedded in my knee and a bit of a ‘road rash’ happening, but at least my skin wasn’t flapping down. I limped to the transition in tears. Not tears because I was hurt, tears that I felt that I let my team down by being two hours later than expected.
There were so many caring people on the course asking me if I need help and if I was going to be okay? That is one thing I love about this community. I would tell them “I will be fine. I work with physios” and then smile.
In my heart I believed that they, my team, would take care of me after, and they would admire all I went through for the team.
But instead, I got the opposite. I had one physio look (and just look) at my knee at the campsite and say it was fine and another not even let me use the recovery boots because they were for the “other racers”.
The kicker was the owner coming to me, after I apologized for being two hours behind, to tell me to “Get over it and stop whining.”
That was when I first noticed that everything was starting to change.
At that time, I worked at my dream job. After being in the fitness business for 30 years, I needed a change and became a medical transcriptionist and medical office assistant that led me to work in physiotherapy and chiropractic clinics. This clinic was one I wanted to work in for a while and I was over the moon when I got hired.
Things started fantastic. Within a month, I went to full-time hours, three months a raise, and five months a promotion to clinic manager. I loved working there and was happier than I had been in a long time. Before the promotion, I was asked to run on one of their Sinister 7 teams and joined their social running group. I truly thought I was part of the team in every way. But, after this sinister 7, things changed in the clinic as well.
I was originally supposed to run leg 7, which went first in Reverso. (Each year the course changes which direction runners go.) I was approached one day from one of the clinicians to switch event legs with her because she was dealing with a foot injury. “ You like to run far and run all the time” she said and after a few minutes I said “sure.”
Training was going great and yes, I run mostly every day. I was confident that I could complete it in a great time. However, it wasn’t the only race I was training for.
I started to hear under the breath comments about my ability to run long distances. I overheard a few people, at work, questioning whether I do run as much as I say and whether I have actually run these races before. But I didn’t care what they said. I am so used to the negative comments, but my intention was to prove them wrong, all of them.
A week or so after the team and I participated in the Sinister 7 event, there was an email sent to everyone, at work, mentioning that they were thinking of creating teams for some of the other Sinister Sports races like Canadian Death Race and Castle Alpine Race.
I replied that I would love to join a team but not Death Race because I was already registered to run the Near Death Marathon. I received a short reply of “We haven’t decided yet but we will let you know if we do.” I was good with that.
Nothing was said to me going into Death Race weekend from anyone there. Not even one single ‘Good Luck’. This is where I started to notice my confidence wavering and my noticed a little anxiety before the race. For the first time since 2010, I didn’t want to be there and not sure why?
When I returned from the Death Race Marathon and went back to my daily life, things seemed normal but a little off. One Thursday I was at work and the owner came in, as she often did, and we were chatting before she left. She asked me my plans for the following weekend.
I didn't have a race, but I was going to run, nonetheless. I asked her the same and she said “My crew and I are running Castle Alpine. We registered, a couple of us registered.” I felt like I was kicked in the stomach and stabbed in the back at the same time. I knew right then that I was no longer part of the team.
Honestly, I had been there before. Many times, for the past few years I have been in the same situation. I have been kicked off relay teams for various reasons – I am too slow, too fat, not able to complete the leg, etc. I was told that I should never been on ‘the team’ and be thankful that the others are fast. I was told a few times that they don’t want me on teams because they want a chance to finish in a good time. I really didn’t care about what was said, but what happened with my work really hurt. I trusted them. I was loyal to them. I loved working with them. None of that was replicated and I felt betrayed.
I tried not to take it personally and brush it off. It was just the shear amount of the same things being said and done to me that I couldn’t let it go. It became demoralizing. I became depressed and had severe anxiety, especially at the start of races. No matter what I did or said to myself, I couldn’t shake it and with every place finish or DNF, I couldn’t stop the snowballing and for the first time since I started running as a child, I hated to run and didn’t want to do it anymore.
I don’t hate it, though. I still loved it. I was still passionate about it. I just couldn’t find the strength inside me to continue.
Over the last year, I have made great progress to get back to me. But I again have hit some snags, yet I am not giving up. A few months back I was hot with the realization that if I want to change things, I need to change things. I was in the loop of doing the same thing and expecting a different result, which is the definition of insanity. I had to make a make a firm cut in that loop and change my perspective and change my direction. This is what brings me to today. As I write this long-winded explanation of my rock bottom (of sorts) and am full of hope and excitement for the future and I would love to take you along with me on my journey.
Over the next number of entries, I will share my progress. What worked, what didn’t, and what I learned. I am hoping that through sharing my story I can maybe be a source of inspiration and show that whatever you are going through, you are not alone.
Until next time – take care and know that you are not alone and that it is okay to not be okay!
- Angie Villeneuve