When Janice Terry took her first bike ride twenty years ago, she had no idea how her life would change.
After a co-worker shared details about a ten-mile ride he’d gone on, Terry was intrigued. Sensing her interest, he offered to tune up a bike he had stashed under his porch.
Chuckling, she described the ride. “I showed up in my Lycra shorts, and we went on this ride – ten miles. They had gone off and left me, and I cried. I weighed 235 pounds.” They waited on her at the five-mile turnaround and finished the ride together.
She weighed in the next day to discover she’d lost five pounds. Inspired, she cleaned up her eating habits and began saving money for a bicycle of her own.
“I worked so hard to get that bike; I carried it around in my car for over five years,” she says, laughing.
Cycling and healthy eating paved the way to an 80 plus pound weight loss and inspired her to begin running. She set her sights on a half marathon in Dallas. The event had a special meaning for her.
“I was so excited about that race. It benefitted the Scottish Rite hospital, and both my dad and my sister had been treated there.
After that, there was no stopping her.
She completed her first marathon in June 2004 in San Diego and never looked back. A runner, a cyclist, and a triathlete – she had changed her life.
As she left her home in South Tyler before dawn on August 10, 2014, little did she know that her life would dramatically change again that day. Terry and her friend, Jion Dietz, had both signed up for the Hotter “N Hell Hundred – a one hundred mile ride in Waco later that month. Today would be their last, long training ride before the event.
It was a typical East Texas Sunday summer morning – blue sky, with the occasional scattered cloud, passing overhead, a slight warm breeze blowing. The pair planned to ride sixty miles.
About two hours into the ride – somewhere around the thirty-mile mark, Terry was struck from behind by an SUV, causing her to be thrown up and over the vehicle in the small community of Mixson.
“When I went over the top of the car, my head hit the windshield, and my helmet came off. At least, that’s what I was told.”
The driver of the vehicle called for an ambulance while Dietz tried to reach Terry’s husband, Dennis. He was already at church that morning and had left his cell phone in his car. Word traveled fast in the tight-knit running community, and a friend was able to contact their pastor, Marty Dunbar, who rushed to the Sunday School class Dennis attended to relay the news.
“One good thing about the timing was that our whole church started praying – throughout the Sunday school classes and the service.”
She was taken to the ER at UT Tyler with extensive injuries.
Upon arrival, it was discovered that her heart was filling up with blood, and she underwent immediate open-heart surgery to stabilize her blood pressure. Doctors also closed a laceration across the crown of her head, extending almost ear to ear.
On day three, she underwent surgery for a broken back. A collapsed disc was replaced with cadaver bone, and temporary rods and pins were inserted to keep her spine straight. She was placed in a medically induced coma for seven days, of which she has little memory.
On the 7th day, she transferred out of the ICU. When she woke, she was in excruciating pain and called for a nurse. “He helped me up and into a chair and asked me if I’d like to try to eat something. I did. I asked for a chicken sandwich and fries, and he sat with me.”
The nurse, an avid runner, passed the time talking about running with Terry while she ate.
“I was sitting in the chair with a turtle shell (A thoracolumbosacral or lumbosacral orthosis (TLSO/LSO) is a corset-style brace, designed to restrict the movement of the torso) and a neck brace. He put me back to bed after I ate the chicken sandwich,” she explains. Laughing, she adds, “You know what’s funny? I ate that whole chicken sandwich. And I’m a vegetarian!”
On day eight, there was much discussion about the next step in Terry’s care plan between her friends, family, and physicians.
Her wish to continue her recovery at home, rather than in rehab, won out. On day nine, she went home.
“I felt like I could do my recovery better at home.”
Terry called her sister to tell her she’d be there in a few weeks to run the Virginia Beach half- marathon. Dennis looked at her gently. “Honey, your airfare is canceled.”
“Why would you cancel my airfare?” she cried.
He explained the severity of her injuries again, and that’s when it finally sunk in, even though she’d been told every day since the accident.
Worried about her future and how she would get her life back, she found comfort in a book her mother had given her for Christmas, Jesus Calling: Enjoying Peace In His Presence by Sarah Young. “Every time I read it, God would say I will be with you, I have a plan for you.”
Although she was mostly immobilized, her home health care aide had taught her how to get out of bed without hurting herself.
The ordeal took thirty minutes, but she was undeterred. Determined, she began searching the internet looking for ways to speed her recovery.
“I was looking for ways that I could get better, and I found an article that said for every day you don’t walk post-back surgery, you set yourself back two days.”
She called on her community of friends, and they immediately came up with a plan. “They told me you’re not going backward; we’ll be here every day at 7:30 am and 6:30 pm.” She knew it was going to take a lot of hard work and dedication to get back to where she was before the accident.
“The next day, as I was getting up out of bed, and Dennis asked where I was going. I said my friends are going to be here at 7:30; I have to get my clothes on and put on my shoes,” she recalls.
Her walker had helium balloons tethered to it – a remnant from her return home, and she dubbed it the Party Barge.
The first day she walked about one hundred yards, returning to her bed, physically exhausted.
But she kept at it. From there, she went a little further every day. Twice a day. Rain or shine.
“It would take me longer to get out of bed than it would take to complete the walk, ” Terry groans.
At the end of October, a little over three months after the accident, she walked her first 5K, completing it in just under an hour. There would be no stopping her now.
Taking it one step at a time, she gradually built up distance and set her sights on a half marathon in Dallas – the same event that fueled her love of running ten years prior. Setting a goal to complete the race in less three hours, with a combination of running and walking, she was able to cross the finish line in two hours and fifty-eight minutes.
She returned to her previous routine and structure, meeting friends each day at 5 am.
Even though she was unable to keep up with them, it motivated her. She did what she could, picking them back up on their way in—both running and cycling.
“My husband’s eyeballs would get as big as saucers when I told him I was going to ride.” she exclaims, quickly adding, “one way that I’ve been blessed is that I have no memory of what happened that day – that made it easier to get back on the bike. I was a little nervous that first day but went with friends. I pray before I go, and I thank the Lord when I get back.”
She signed up for the Marine Corps Marathon to be held at the end of October 2015 in Washington, D.C., “I had a lot of anxiety about finishing. As part of the race, you have to be at mile twenty by a certain time – a cutoff time.”
She continued her training and ultimately made it past mile twenty, beating out the bus that picks up stragglers and drives them to the end of the course.
“My family was there at mile 23 to support me, and then they met me at the finish line.” When a Marine in full dress blues placed the medal around her neck, she was overcome with emotion.
Since that time, she has completed countless events of all distances and was set to participate in the Banff Marathon in late June 2020 until another unexpected event – Covid-19 derailed those plans.
“Have I shown you my Medal Wall?” she asks brightly, grabbing her cell phone and scrolling through pictures. ‘Here it is!” as she slides the device across the table.
Two curtain rods, one on top of the other, spanning the length of a large bay window, are filled with bright, multi-colored ribbons, medals in all shapes and sizes dangling from both, stretch from end to end.
Terry points to a purple bicycle pedal hanging on the top rod about a third of the way through.“That’s when I had my accident. My friends put that there.”
She runs her finger across the rows, reminiscing about different races. As she nears the end, she murmurs, “This is it. This is my journey.”
She blinks a couple of times before looking up. “This. Right here,” pointing towards the picture on the screen triumphantly. “This is my story.”
