Austin Marathon - Running for Ryan

I loved New Years Resolutions. They always provided me the opportunity to challenge myself and to think creatively about what I want and hope to achieve in an upcoming year. 

In February 2013 I ran my first half marathon. Running was in no way a passion, but it was a challenge and completing a half marathon was a huge accomplishment. Thankfully I had the support of the most important person: my biggest cheerleader came out to watch me. I remember telling him afterward "I'll never run the Austin Full."

By far 2015 was a year to look forward to. I would be marrying my best friend in Thailand, escaping, just the 2 of us for two weeks where I could watch him surf as much as he wanted and I could eat noodles day and night. At minimum, he would be quitting his job and going back to school during which time I would support him. At best, we would be moving to Australia together, a plan he presented last Christmas. He would be gone from ATCEMS; it was his only resolution for the upcoming year. There was no changing the demons of the previous 10 years but we could get him to an environment where external stress did not make them worse. We were so close.

I'd held my Love when he came home frustrated, wrapped myself around him when the anger and the exhaustion left him crippled, I massaged his feet after a long day, rubbed his back where the torn muscle from OJI months prior still ached if we stood for more than a few hours. He was tired. He was hurt. He was scared to lose his job. He was frustrated from being told to "sell ambulance rides."

I couldn't help with the sleepless nights, I couldn't help when he woke exhausted, when he called in sick because he couldn't go back on shift again that week, I couldn't help when the angry outburst left me with no words of consolation except "I still love you."

Thirteen days into January of 2015 I got a 9 minute phone call that has changed my life and that I will never forget. It started with "I love you, but I have to let you go." An hour after he called I was home at our "White Picket Fence" as we'd dubbed it where I handed over my keys and later a cop whose name I'll never forget came out to tell me "He's not with us anymore." Ryan was my best friend, my husband-to-be and future-father; he was the man I'd relied on to share with me bad and good days, my mentor and my sounding board, the one who consistently put a smile on my face regardless of how grouchy I wanted to be. Ryan had agreed a week before that our first daughter's name should be Elyse Alexandra - but now he was dead.

I have learned more about suicide, PTSD, and grief than I ever would have imagined. It angers me and it terrifies me. I have learned that more first responders will die from suicide in a single year than were lost on 9/11. With a father who served more years deployed with the Army than at home during his career and a brother with 3 combat tours and a purple heart, these were not foreign subject to me but they were never my reality; my family is still alive. 

I assumed that sleepless nights, that days coming home exhausted and angry, that drinking to get to sleep were part of the job, just as night shifts and missing holidays were. They are not. Assumptions are dangerous. My Sweetheart died a preventable death. The Code Green Campaign makes it their mission to educate their peers and the industry on suicide among EMS providers.

It is an epidemic that must stop. It is never acceptable for someone that needs help to be shut down, let alone for a father to tell his son to "deal with it" when a young EMT has seen humans destroying each other through gang rivalry and sat while mothers high on crack deliver preterm babies and refuse to even hold them. There is no EMS textbook in the world that tells you what to say when after you wrap your arms around a senior left covered in their own filth to stand them up and help put clothes on. But when compassion takes its toll after a year or decades, resources must be available to get help - to not feel isolated and abandoned.

In exhaustion, after 13.1 miles, I swore to Ryan that I'd never run a marathon. I also promised him that I'd marry him and that I would take care of him for the rest of our lives. Both of these will be promises I could not keep.

I will be running the Austin Marathon on February 14, 2016. It will be 1 year, 1 month, and 1 day since my heart shattered. It will also be my 28th birthday.

Ryan made me a better EMT, he made me a more honest person, and a more sacrificial partner. He gave me more laughs, eye rolls, hugs, and love than I could have dreamed. Through him and because of him I learned unconditional love. 1,252 days will never be long enough to have spent with my best friend and I wish for him every day to still be by my side, though healthy and at peace. I would not pass this nightmare onto any person or family, especially those who are our heroes.

I am honored to raise money in Ryan's memory, to remember all of those whose loss is silent, who are not publicly revered but who would still be here if not for their service and sacrifice. Running 26.2 is one of numerous challenges that I have faced and will continue to face since I lost the other half of my heart. But through it, I would hope that perhaps my struggle and our story provides The Code Green Campaign with the resources to save just 1 other life. Will you join me?

Always Yours, Sweetheart, 
Stephanie