From the time she was a month old, Sara Rapp was constantly told about the things she couldn't do. Doctors said she would never walk; born without hip sockets, they predicted she'd live her life in a wheelchair. They recommended that she be sterilized, because having children would be too risky. She couldn't ride a bike, couldn't play sports, couldn't participate in gym class.
Running Grandma's part of plan to make up for lost time
From the time she was a month old, Sara Rapp of Princeton was constantly told about the things she couldn't do.
Saturday, the mother of two — and grandmother of five — will run Grandma's Marathon, moving another 26.2 miles away from the limitations that defined her for so many years. Despite living her life slowly and cautiously, Rapp was told after a 2001 knee surgery that her damaged joints would need more repair, no matter what she did.
That led her to decide she was finished with the word "no.''
This summer, Rapp, 48, will run her first marathon, compete in a running and cycling duathlon and paddle a kayak through a 44-mile route down the Mississippi River. That's just a start on her quest to make up for lost time.
"My whole life, people were saying, 'You can't do this, you can't do that,'' said Rapp, of Princeton. "I got so numb to it that I didn't do anything anymore.
"Then the doctor told me to think of my knees like the tires on a car. If I was a little old lady driving to church on Sunday, they'd last a long time, and if I was a race-car driver, I'd be lucky if they lasted a full race. I decided I wanted to be a race-car driver. If they were going to go out, they were going out with a bang, and I was going to enjoy it until they did.''
Rapp began running 10 years ago, shortly after that epiphany. Her hip problems left her with a crooked right leg, and for years, she was so self-conscious about her unusual gait that she restricted her running to her basement treadmill.
In March 2010, Rapp mustered the courage to run outdoors for the first time. She now trains several times per week on a 5½-mile loop around a lake near her home, and she has completed two local races this spring: the Get Lucky 7K in March and the Stillwater 10K in May. A foot injury has compromised her training for Grandma's, but given her experience at toughing things out, she doesn't expect it will prevent her from finishing the race.
The big cast
Rapp's parents, Don and Judy
Westerlund, thought it was odd that their baby daughter never cried when she was hungry. Doctors later told them that was because Sara had been in severe pain since she was born. When she was a month old, they discovered her hip bones had not developed sockets, and the only thing holding her hip joints together was soft tissue.
The Westerlunds were told their daughter would never walk. Reluctant to accept that, they began searching for options and found a doctor at Minneapolis' Swedish Hospital who was using body casts to treat hip conditions such as the one Sara had. At the age of six weeks, the 12-pound baby was swaddled in 33 pounds of plaster, which would encase her for the next 10 months.
The cast used pressure on Sara's knees to force the tops of her femurs into her soft, flat hip bones, which eventually created sockets. That didn't prevent Sara from being an active baby. She dragged herself along the floor with such vigor that she broke one of her casts, and when she was finally freed from the plaster, she immediately pulled herself into a standing position and took her first steps.
That marked the first time she defied expectations. Still, Rapp would continue to be told she couldn't do things. Doctors said having a baby could kill or severely injure her. Her parents wouldn't allow her to ride a bike. Teachers worried she would get hurt at recess, so they made her sit alone in a classroom while the other kids played outdoors.
"Every year, on the first day of school, I had to take a note saying I couldn't be in gym class," said Rapp, who also wore leg braces and corrective shoes as part of her treatment. "To spend all those years in elementary school and junior high sitting on the side of the gym or in an empty classroom doing homework, that was really hard. After a while, you get a negative mindset."
The will to run
When no adults were looking, Rapp indulged her rebellious streak by climbing trees, playing football and borrowing other kids' bikes. But she required reconstructive knee surgery at age 13 to repair damage caused during her hip treatment. Rapp defied predictions again by having a son and a daughter, but after all those years of hearing "no,'' she lost interest in being physically active.
That changed with her second knee surgery.
"All of a sudden, I hit this patch in the road where everything was changing," she said. "I had an empty nest. I got to a time in my life where I could do whatever I wanted. And I wanted to run, even though I knew it wasn't going to be easy."
Rapp gave up her pack-a-day smoking habit cold turkey. The idea of running Grandma's intrigued her; she and her husband, Mark, celebrated their June wedding anniversary in Duluth every year and often were there the weekend of the race.
Last year, Rapp planned to run the Garry Bjorklund Half Marathon but broke her ankle a week before the race. She sat on the curb watching everyone else — just like she did during those long-ago gym classes — and promised herself she would run farther and faster this year.
Rapp can't guarantee the faster part. But given the distance she already has traveled, she is determined to accomplish the farther.
"This is my way of rebelling against all the times I was told, 'You can't do that,' '' she said. "Don't let somebody else tell you what you can do. You'll figure it out on your own. You just have to say, 'Yeah, I can.' "
The Minnesota Frost are getting production from newcomers and their established vets, with notable improvement on special teams.