Jason Romero - Running into the Dark

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With every ending there is a new beginning .

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I t was 2:00 a.m. on May 23, 2016, and all I heard was my alarm screaming at me. The song Shut Up and Dance by Walk the Moon was once again blaring in my ear. I was in a foreign place: a small motel room with two beds, and the usual desk, lamps, and TV. But where was I? I was confused for the first couple of minutes of waking. Was I in California, Texas, Missouri, Illinois, Pennsylvania? What state was I waking up in? This question had wracked my mind for the last two months. Not knowing where I was waking up had become normal, and wasnt cause for anxiety or discontent. I wasnt in any of those states. I was at a Comfort Inn somewhere in west New Jersey and my sixty-nine-year-old mom was in the bed beside me .

My mom was already dressed and ready. She had showered the night before, dressed for the following day, and slept in her clothes. She wanted to be as efficient as possible as she knew today was going to be a very long day. A very important day. She flipped on the light and said, Jay, are you ready? I rolled my body to look at her. My entire body was too tight and sore to turn just my head. Rolling my entire pain-ridden body toward her was a better option than just turning my neck, which caused horrible pain and sometimes triggered a morning headache. I smiled at my mom and said, Lets do this .

She threw off the covers and rose from her bed like doves being released from a cage. She seemed to be everywhere in the room. After a quick bathroom stop to wash her face, do her hair, and become presentable, she dug in the motel mini fridge, getting me food and drink, which consisted of fruit, some pastries, and a yogurt. She went in and out of the room to get ice and prepared my morning ice bath for my feet: a motel trash can with about four inches of water and the rest ice. She set the can at the side of my bed. There were no words uttered between us. There didnt need to be. We had done this dance for the last sixty consecutive mornings. As I saw her whirring around and began to more fully wake, I realized she wasnt moving as fast as I had originally thought. She, too, was exhausted, in pain, and not feeling good .

I had yet to even sit up in bed. I couldnt move my legs. They were locked into a semi-bent position as I lay on my side. They felt like rigor mortis had set in. I knew that this was no good, and I had to get moving. I took a deep breath, and with all the might I could muster, I pushed my legs to straighten them out. They locked into the straightened position and immediately cramped up. Then, both feet followed suit and cramped up. I screamed, and then slowly took deep calming breaths. I had learned that this technique could help me ride out the morning cramps, and get my lower body back to functioning. I rolled side to side a couple of times, trying to see how my back was going to react this morning. It seemed to be doing okayjust some soreness, but no significant strains or cramping .

It was finally time, I had to sit up and put my swollen feet into a morning ice bath. My mom looked at my agony and groaning, and shot me a smile. Her smile wasnt because she was amused by my agony. Im sure that smile was a capstone smilea sense of pride, compassion, and relief that our torture would soon be coming to an end .

My right foot went into the trash can filled with ice. Ahhhhh! It was startling, but also refreshing. My foot was pounding. I could feel the foot pulse with every heartbeat. The foot seemed to be stretching the skin, muscles, ligaments, and tendons. Before going into the ice bath, the foot felt as if it was going to explode at any instant. My right foot was suffering from severe plantar fasciitis, a very painful and somewhat common running injury. It felt like I was being stabbed by a knife in the bottom of my foot every time I put pressure on it .

I had also developed a strange popping in the arch of my foot every time I stepped on it. It was disturbing and concerning, but the pain just stayed steady and didnt continue to increaseI could tolerate it. I had neuromasswollen bundles of nervesin each foot which had developed between the second and third toes. Every time I stepped and the toes squeezed together, horrible pain shot through my entire body. So the game was to keep the toes separated as much as possible, and to ignore the pain as much as possible. Icing and ibuprofen helped keep the pain at bay. After seven minutes in the ice bath, my right foot was numb and feeling good. It was now time for my left foot to get the shocking joy of the morning wake-up call. My left foot wasnt as beat up as my right foot. It only felt like a hammer had been pounding on it for the last sixty days. Nothing was broken, but the entire appendage was crying for mercy. Somehow, it just dangled from my ankle and slowly slipped below the ice to a position where it could no longer be seen .

As I let my feet ice, I gobbled down all the food my mom had set in front of me. During this time, I grabbed my phone and texted some friends that were in nearby rooms in the same motel. They had collectively travelled thousands of miles to be with me on this particular day. One friend, Greg, was a college roommate who had flown in from Austin, Texas, and was now a high-ranking executive at a commercial real estate firm. Another friend, Jay, was also a college roommate and a high-ranking muckety-muck with significant responsibilities who had driven twelve hours one-way with his family of five to be with me on this day. Another friend, Camilo, was a business owner who had taken time off and given up an opportunity to run a race in the Florida Keys, so he could help me on this day .