I need to tell you the end, first. I'm ok. I wasn't there for a moment, but I'm ok now.
Eric and I planned a two-week camping trip to Banff and Jasper National Parks, waking up early on a couple of different winter mornings to get online to snag sought after camping sites in July. We were going to take two weeks off - the first time we'd ever gone on vacation for that long. As that time drew near, we knew we both needed the break. We were mentally exhausted. I was scrambling for balance, doing what I knew to do to force me to stop working - sign up for a marathon and print up a training plan that told me when I needed to close my computer and go for a run. That printed plan came with me to several countries, where I put in miles near beaches, across cities, around hotel gardens and on treadmills - whenever I could fit training in during the day, wherever was safe.
I took that training plan to Canada, and we spent two weeks hiking, running, biking and disconnecting in the mountains, seeing amazing places and recovering from dual heavy work seasons. I put over 100 miles on my legs. We came back to a house-full. Some of our favorite people arrived for a week of vacation of their own, using our house as their base.
We went back to work, and I continued my training plan. On a Tuesday evening in mid-July, I ran eight miles, then stood in the kitchen listening to young adults tell us about their day, and talk about their first professional jobs in nursing.
I woke up Wednesday morning and had a stroke.
