Carol Seppilu -  Outrunning the Dark

 

I was on an ambulance stretcher when all of the screams from the people trying to save my life faded away. Everything went completely dark. I couldn't hear and I couldn't see. The darkness terrified me. Even the pain and the horrific cries felt like heaven compared to this void of nothingness. That's when I begged earnestly for God to save me. 

 

I was 16 years old, depressed and intoxicated. I shot myself point blank in the face, and now I was fighting for my life. I don't remember the sound of the gun, but I do remember it slipping right before I pulled the trigger. Everything went completely dark. And that's when I didn't want to die anymore. 

 

I was medevacked on a small airplane from Nome to Anchorage. The doctors told my mother that my chances were 50-50. And if I survived, I would be legally blind and they weren't sure if I would be able to talk again.

 

In the hospital, as I was struggling to breathe, I fell into a vision. I walked into a fog when an old village appeared. My late great-grandfathers were there, sitting on the ground as they beckoned for me. They looked young and perfect, wearing bird feather parkas and smiles so big their eyes closed. They told me that everything was going to be okay and that I had to come back, because I was going to do great things. They also told me other things that I can't remember, but somehow, I now feel. It was so peaceful there and I felt no pain. I begged to stay, but I listened to them and I came back with a powerful sense of purpose.

 

The gunshot left a severe wound on my face and a permanent tracheostomy, a narrow tube that I breathed through. Yet somehow, just being alive felt like a blessing. I went through several years of painful surgeries before I finally decided to stop them. I wear a mask over my face. Because with it on, people seem to be nicer and they ask less questions. 

 

As the years passed by, the depression sank deeper. Everyone was supportive of me, but I felt guilty. And then, one day in 2014, I woke up at noon. It was a beautiful summer day and I didn't want to get out of bed. I was 233 pounds, unhappy and unhealthy. I knew I had to do something. 

 

A friend of mine was a marathon runner, and her posts on Facebook were always so inspiring. So, that day I decided I would go for a two-mile run. I could only run to the end of the road, which was only a couple of blocks, before running out of breath. But I made the decision to walk the rest of the way. I did this every day. Pretty soon, those two blocks, they turned into one mile and one mile turned into a few. And just like that, I sort of turned into Forrest Gump. [audience laughter] I just felt like running and I couldn't stop. 

 

That next year, I ran a local eight-mile race and a local half marathon. I just wanted to keep running. I entered a trail race in Louisiana with a friend where she ran a 62-mile race and I decided to do a 20-mile race. It rained hard. I was miserably wet and cold the entire time. But as I sat around waiting for my friend to finish, I noticed the runners around me. I knew they were exhausted. I ran only 20 miles and I was done. These people were running 62- and 100-mile races and they were smiling. Their endurance, willpower and determination inspired me greatly. If they could get joy out of doing something so difficult, I wanted that too. 

 

So, I decided to train for an ultramarathon. It was hard at first. But as I ran more, I wanted to see how much farther I could go. I ran up in the mountains with my dog, where I love to be. I thought about my ancestors a lot. They were the true ultra runners. For fun, they would do endurance races where they ran in a circle and the last one running would win. They ran for a very long time. I felt healthier. I lost 80 pounds. I was happier. The depression was easier to manage. I felt stronger. 

 

I signed up for a 50-mile race in Alaska, up in the mountains, out in the middle of nowhere. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. It had rained heavily the night before, but it stopped shortly before sunrise when we all gathered together. The race director said a few words and sent us off. It was an immediate ascent, and soon I was left alone. There were tree stumps lurking along the trail. And from afar, they looked like bears peeking out at you. The first one almost scared me to death. 

 

I wore a mask over my face and it started to fall off. But instead of stopping to put another one on, I decided to keep going without it. On the trail, there's a point where you turn around and follow part of the course back. Runners were heading up. As they passed me, each gave me a word of encouragement. There were no negative words or looks. I felt comfortable without the mask. Amongst them, I felt strengthened. 

 

Later on, I saw a group of hikers with their dogs. A husky blocked the trail with his body as if to say, stop. Those people, they were yelling, "Hey, bear. No, bear." They told me that they had seen a bear across the valley and that maybe I should stick with them until the runner behind me caught up. But I wasn't sure if she was still back there. So, I decided to proceed alone, with caution. I just wanted to finish. 

 

Not too far down the trail, I saw him in the trees, a large black bear, most likely male. We looked at each other. I thought about the two that were mauled earlier that summer. I was so scared. Instinctively, I walked forward while yelling. I must have looked like a mad woman. When I didn't see him anymore, I started running. It started raining. I kept looking back and kept moving forward. Up ahead, I saw another black bear run across the trail into the overgrown plants. Bears everywhere, bear poop everywhere. Behind me, I heard the loudest scream, like someone being attacked. It screamed again. It was a hawk. I prayed with all of my might and imagined the angels surrounding me and I hoped that the hawk had scared the bear away.

 

] At mile 36, I remember thinking, you're almost there, you're badass, keep going. [audience laughter] Mile 40, 48, I couldn't believe it. Then I thought, shouldn't I have finished by now. Did I miss a turn? Soon I heard voices. Then I saw cars. I heard a man's voice say, “There's Carol.” I saw my sister jumping up and down. I had never cried so hard yet so quietly before, but I finished. I have since completed several ultramarathons and my next goal is to finish a 100-mile race. [audience cheers and applause] 

 

That 16-year-old girl sitting in the ambulance had no sense of what life really meant. But after experiencing that darkness, I realized how precious and fragile life is, and I'm very grateful to be here still, and to be able to see, and to be able to talk and to tell my story. The depression hasn't gone away. It's still there. There are days where I'm exhausted from everything that I've been through and go through, but I've learned how to keep going, day by day and mile by mile.