Day 74

 I want you to think about your happy place. I want you to think about the thing you run to when you're stressed or your day was downright shitty. 

Maybe it's calling an old friend. Maybe it's hitting DQ on the way home. Maybe it's creating art in some way. 

Now take it away. Imagine that if you ran to your happy place, it would physically hurt you. It's not your fault, but it is your reality. 

See, that's where I am at right now. 

My escape is on a trail, treadmill. or track. It has been for a while now. I love being able to just go. I don't run very far or even very fast, but I don't care. It's all about the endorphins and challenging myself. 

But right now I still can't do that. I can't lace up my running shoes and head to the lake. Because when I do that it feels like I am about to have a heart attack. 

My COVID symptoms are on day 74. That's a long time. And it all sucks. 

My endorphins, vitamin D and simply listening to my running playlist are very important to my mental health. I am very open about my state of things. I have severe generalized anxiety. For me, that means I am always searching for the next challenge- the next achievement. 

I was just thinking this morning about how my anxiety shows up in even my top five Clifton Strengths. My five are Strategic, Competition, Discipline, Focus and Achiever. These combine to make me want to ALWAYS be going going going. I want to keep finding new things to do. 

When I run, I am always checking my watch to see if I can beat my own time. I want to succeed against myself. I want to achieve new goals. I want to see growth in myself as a runner and a person. 

I want this for a variety of reasons. I obviously love pushing myself and now that I am not in classes, I have to find a new way to keep this up. I also know it helps my anxiety like crazy. I had an anxiety attack before work this week and all I wanted was to get out on a trail and GO. I knew I just needed to clear my head. It worked in college when I would show up to the Rec after Wednesday night staff meetings when I just wanted to cry. I knew it could work if I could just. go. run.

That can't happen right now.

Today after school I went to the park to run and walk. I knew I would likely be mostly walking as my chest pain from COVID has kept me from doing much of anything this week. But I went anyway. That felt amazing. I needed my out. 

Because what people don't realize is that COVID sucks double when you get it. Quite possibly even triple or four times.

I'll explain.

COVID sucks for everyone before it even touches you. I remember being overwhelmed by the thought of the coronavirus because I wanted to do all I could to stay the hell away from it. 

And to be frank, it upended a lot of my life. 

To put it short, it took away my senior year, college graduation, move to Orlando and job down there, and then my mental health from not having a plan for the year. 

That was enough to warrant anxiety and panic attacks pretty much all the time. I remember telling my mom we had to stop talking about COVID because it was making my mental health go to shit. That was when I still had places to go. I could head to the lake or the trail and run upwards of seven miles to get my mind off of the state of the world. So when you're staying away from COVID, it sucks once. 

Then it sucks an entirely new way when you catch it. This should be self-explanatory. You feel like garbage, your whole family has to stay home and pray they don't catch it, your workplace shuts down, and you feel guilty and as though you have the flu. I have a whole blog about this suckage. 

After you're finally out of quarantine and you no longer wonder if you'll end up in the hospital that day, COVID still sucks! It's a lovely game we play. If you are considered a long-hauler like yours truly, you wake up every day with some sort of COVID side effect. These range from hardcore anxiety, nausea, swollen ankles, chronic chest pain, brain fog and random burning sensations. And those were only the ones I have personally experienced. The good news is you do eventually get your smell back!

So that sucks overall. I am still just waiting for my third level of COVID shit to pass, to be completely honest. I want to run miles on end. Let's be real, I want to walk through the parking lot to my school without needing to catch my breath. 

Then there's the weird fourth level of COVID mess. Once you test positive, you become the spokesperson for COVID. In some ways, I love this. I am a girl with my bachelor's in Journalism. I want to inform people and help others get through the illness. But then there's another side to this world. 

I still have friends that won't see me because I tested positive in July. I still get looked at with a strange disgust when I bring up my dealing with the illness around certain people. That hurts. It hurts and it's frustrating. I am not dirty. I did not go out all summer long and party. I didn't refuse to wear a mask at my job. I didn't even leave my home except when I was likely going to be alone. 

So that's where I'm at on Day 74. Still kicking. Still waiting to not feel my chest twang. Still active in my COVID Survivors support group on Facebook. 

Because COVID freaking sucks. The numbers can be swayed, so pay attention to the stories. We are real people going through a real illness that really, really sucks. 

My GameDay Experience

I am a 5-foot 7-inch, 115-pound senior in college and I have never felt scared on my campus. That is, until 3:15 a.m. September 28, 2019.

I was one of hundreds of people who came to earn a spot in ESPN College GameDay’s pit. I thought the experience would be one to write home about, something to tell my grandkids, something wonderful I could never forget.



And it was. I texted my mom about it. I will warn my grandkids about it. And I’ll never forget it.

It wasn’t wonderful.

I would never have guessed I would turn around at the gate and never make it into the pit. I would never have guessed that I would leave with the smell of Natural Lite and vodka scarred in my nose.

I would never have guessed that a show that airs every Saturday of football season wouldn’t know how to contain a predictable crowd.

A school that was so excited to show the world that our football program is relevant again didn't work with the program to ensure the safety of its students.

To this day, I'm not sure who dropped the ball on security and typical event-planning details, but it was quite the fumble.

Husker Nation was ecstatic to see those orange buses roll in with the promise of hope for our football team. We are known for being the best fanbase, traveling well and consistently selling out Memorial Stadium.

But apparently, nobody told ESPN that we also sometimes drink a little and we get a little excited about anything related to football.

So, as I made my way to the stadium at 7 o'clock Friday night with a stomach full of carbs and a backpack full of extra layers and fattening snacks, I had no idea I would return to my dorm room the next day with such disappointment.

Even a few hours in, I assumed everything would be fine. We were all having a grand ole time.

We cheered for the bell tower as it chimed on the hour about 18 seconds before the “Countdown to GameDay” clock hit the hour marker, so we would countdown with it before a triple “Go Big Red.”



We laughed as we watched the plot thicken around a strategically placed Washington State University flag flying in Memorial Stadium and then unhinged by a group of guys.

I even found myself making my poster and cutting my t-shirt into a crop top all while in line.

I honestly enjoyed ringing in Saturday, the true game day, surrounded by Husker fans who were as ready as I was for some Husker magic.  Midnight felt like New Year’s Eve without the snow and kissing- it was awesome!

Around 1 or 2 o’clock I tried to take a nap, but the excitement kept me awake. As I looked around, I saw three people walking around in giant corn costumes. I told them I wanted to one day also be “a corn” and they told me I could be one day and handed me a cob. I kept that corn with me for the next 20 hours.

The problems didn’t come until around 3:10 a.m. when a man in a velvet, red cowboy hat decided it was time to move.

Out of nowhere, he ran screaming, “we’re moving forward!!” And the crowd followed. By this time the entire parking lot loop was filled and the crowd from the side that got there latest happened to also run the fastest. It didn’t shock anyone- they might have slept that night.

It was chaos. Everyone abandoned their belongings and bolted to what we hoped would eventually be the front of the line even though none of us had a clue who was right or wrong.

Then we stood. We waited for something to happen- surely there was a reason we all ran, right? Wrong.

I realized I left my wallet and phone at my blanket. My heart rate quickened as I realized all that I could lose if one person walked by and decided my belongings were now theirs.

So I did a dumb thing.

I pushed my way through the mass of Huskers and ran to my spot. I found everything and hastily threw it in my backpack.

As I made my way back to my friends in line, I was shouted at by a middle-aged woman to “stop cutting.” I tried to explain myself but then realized it was 3:30 a.m. and there was no use.

It took me 15 minutes to squeeze my way back to my friends, but I got there with pride and a sense of profound accomplishment.

But it went downhill from there.

Once I returned to my friends, the crowd was getting a little bored. Velvet cowboy hat man decided it was his duty to entertain the crowd of drunk Huskers.  I would testify that velvet cowboy hat man was also rather intoxicated.

So he did what any good, drunk man would do.

He started yelling. And throwing things. And then yelling to find more things to throw.

It started out as humorous. We all wondered how he got his hands on three separate two-liters of Mountain Dew, a half-gallon of milk and SO MANY bags of Hostess donuts.

But after 10 minutes, most of us- myself included- were over it. We just wanted to find a way out of the mob of people. That was not an option.

As we waited for velvet hat man to find more stuff to throw and others to just keep reloading his arms, my friends and I realized just how sober we were and how drunk those around us were.

My friend realized the man in front of her was not just close to her because we were all close together, he was leaning on her in order to stay standing.

 The people behind us weren’t just crouching down to try to relieve pressure on their knees, they were shot-gunning beers and taking shooters.

And we brought water and a Gatorade.

It was no wonder velvet hat man was getting such a positive reaction from the crowd, there was no one of a sober mind around him to stop him.

That’s why the throwing got worse. That’s why we had to use our posters as protection when someone from behind decided to throw something heavy and the people with a view of what was coming would yell, “SHIELDS!”

It was all a mess.

Then 5 a.m. hit.

The rush we thought we had before was nothing compared to the stampede that followed the 5 o’clock countdown.

I sprinted with my friends faster than any of us have ever moved before. I ran what felt like miles, leaning forward as to protect myself from anyone above me. The whole time I just kept thinking “don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall.”

"Lion King" flashed through my memory and I refused to play Mufasa in Memorial Stadium's parking lot.

When the hours of chaos died and we couldn’t get any closer to the metal gate, it was 5:03 a.m.

This was when I finally saw someone with authority trying to tell us something. It was only the third time I had seen much of any security all night. The others were casual. Once, when they walked by looking at our posters and another when they told us there would be metal detectors at the gate, so I needed to get rid of the camera I had rented from my college.

I couldn’t hear much but I heard “no backpacks.” This wasn’t a good sign for me. Not that my backpack was much of one anymore anyway, both straps were stripped seven seconds into the second mob.

There I stood, closer to these strangers than I have been with anyone in my life. I felt my elbow stuck at 90 degrees behind me, but I couldn’t move it. I heard a woman behind me shout to her friend, “there’s an elbow in my heart!”

It took serious effort, but I finally wiggled myself into a straight, up-and-down position. I was so close to those around me that I could not move anything else. Yet, there was still pushing from behind forcing all of us that much closer to the people in front of us.

That is when I had my anxiety attack.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see an out anywhere around me. My eyes darted all around me, trying to find somewhere with air. I felt trapped in this mob of people I had never seen before. I refused to cry but the tears were welling up.

So I forced my way out. I asked my friends what they preferred, and they came with me. We realized we had lost two people’s sweatshirts in the mobs but I didn’t care.

I just needed out.

I told everyone around me they could have my spot. It wouldn’t be a good one because of the first rush, but it would probably have gotten into the pit.

They let me out and I found a spot on the side to watch everyone else enjoy what should have been experienced by those of us who got there early.

When the show started filming the crowd, I found others who hadn’t made it into the pit. Some that had gotten to the parking lot as early as 10:30 Friday morning. I even ran into velvet cowboy hat man.

But I should have known.

I tried to do my research before camping out, but finding a solid rule was a wild goose chase.

I had heard rumors that the campers weren’t allowed to bring tents to the Memorial Stadium loop, and I was concerned we might get turned away at the gate, so I called people who should have known the rules.

I started by calling Memorial Stadium’s open number. The staff member who answered questioned why I would want to camp out. This should have been my first clue that questionable things were in store. I should have known.

The staff member transferred me to the event planning number, the new voice thought I was crazy for wanting to camp out and told me they didn’t know what the protocol would be. I should have known.

I took notes on a sticky note that said, “events staff said nobody would run you off” and security personnel “aren’t going to let you bring a tent or chair.”

Plot twist- there were tents and GameDay charged students $3 to rent lawn chairs for the night and others were most certainly allowed.

But I digress, the voice on the other end of the line advised me to walk to Memorial Stadium where GameDay was setting up and ask the security staff there. I should have known.

I walked up to one security guard and asked my simple questions. He said he wasn't sure of any of the answers. I should have known.

He then asked one of his buddies. Nobody knew what the protocol would be for the next night. They told me to call the police department. I should have known.

I called UNLPD and they told me everyone who would know the rules was in a meeting but I could go as early as I wanted as long as I didn't bring a tent and listened to the hired security team. I should have known.

Long story short, nobody knew what was coming. But I should have.

I was at a loss to believe anybody really knew anything about Friday- everyone was simply focused on Saturday. This made me laugh at the time, but now it scares me to wonder what else we aren't prepared for as a university.

We all knew on Saturday that “the line will start at 5 a.m. and the gates will open for pre-show filming at 5:30.” We knew there would be two hours of pre-show footage and the show was live 8-11 a.m.

But nobody could control the crowd that arrived Friday night and Saturday morning and that disappoints me.

When I went to the tent Saturday afternoon to get my wristband for east stadium’s student tickets for the game, I asked the security staff if they had been working GameDay.

They said they got one last-minute email asking for help, but they weren’t sure if anyone took the hours.

I would attest that they didn’t. And we definitely could have used them.

I’m a Husker through and through, and to be honest I’m quite the optimist- it hurt to write this down. But College GameDay was a disappointment, and that hurt more.

While there is truly no place like Nebraska, I don’t think this situation was one that couldn’t have been avoided. We’re special, but we’re not that special.

And what hurts the most is realizing I should have seen it coming on Thursday afternoon.