Runnin' Down A Dream

I am not a "runner." Sure, I hang out on my treadmill several times a week watching train wreck t.v., but I don't usually hit the open road where passers by and real runners can see me. I have always dreamed about joining the league of real runners and imagined myself side-by-side with them on beautiful mountain trails, but I know who I'm kidding. The best I could hope for is to beg them to adopt me for a day or at least a morning.

Once upon a time when my dreams were more like hallucinations, I signed up to run a marathon. I realize that 26.2 miles is quite aspiring for a first time race, yet I let my pride and an old high school friend lead my ego down an impending path of doom. Fortunately for me, the path hit a dead end after I found out Xavier was on his way and my doctor informed me that my running days were over. That was in January of 2007. In the past four years, I have hemmed and hawed over signing up for road races a little less demanding, but I could never summon the courage to put myself out there or discipline myself enough to train physically and mentally to achieve such an overwhelming goal.

This morning everything changed. I was touched by the story of a local five-year old boy and his battle with leukemia. The school where I work hosted a 5K run to help offset the costs of his very expensive treatments. I knew this was not only an opportunity to serve, but the motivation I was looking for to get me on the road. My friend and neighbor, Lindsey McLean, accompanied me on my journey. This was her first race, too, and I knew the cause was dear to her heart as her younger brother fought leukemia when he was a child.

We lined up at the starting gates bright and early. The sun hadn't peeked above the horizon yet, probably because the canyon winds would have knocked it right out of the sky. It was frigid enough that we all had matching snotcicles to decorate our sleeves and purple-veined noses, but it was nice to see such a great showing of love and support within our community. As I claimed my place amongst a group of ladies I knew, I looked around at all the people inching closer and closer to the front of the starting line. I wondered if they were eager to begin the race since it was so cold, or perhaps they felt the need to get ahead of everyone else so they could see what was going on at all times. Either way I don't really know, I was just trying to get my earpiece to stay in and keep my fingers from detaching themselves from my extremeties and hightailing it back to the warm car.

As I surveyed the crowd, there were men, women and children of all shapes and sizes preparing for the whistle to blow. Some huddled in small groups for warmth, others stretched their quadriceps, while couples strategized and buoyed one another with words of encouragement and praise. My eyes were drawn to the serious runners in the group as I stared at their professional apparel which highlighted and streamlined every joint and muscle in their bodies. I was immediately intimidated by the caliber of strength, endurance and physical stamina I was up against. I looked down at my mismatched yoga pants, fleece jacket and worn out running shoes. Nothing about me screamed serious runner, so I guess begging to be a part of the group was completely out of the question. I was going to have to crash their party and hope nobody steamrolled over me in the process.

The whistle blew and the masses jockeyed for position. It was interesting to see which runners took the lead as the pacesetters, as other participants jogged at a brisk pace. Some people walked out of the gates, some held hands, moms pushed baby strollers and children rode scooters. I stared in amazement harboring a small shred of envy as the words, Now why didn't I think of that? echoed in the back of my mind. The ladies I had been chatting with were long gone two seconds after the whistle blew but Lindsey was kind enough to lag behind with me as I found my pace. There is great excitement at the beginning of a race and I knew that if I kept pace with the real runners, I would be dead by the time I reached the end of the street. And that would kind of defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?

About a quarter mile into the run, my lungs burned from the cold. My hands were numb. I couldn't settle into my footwork. I thought to myself, what in the schnikies have I gotten myself into? Nevertheless, I pushed forward telling myself that all would be well once I calmed down and found those glucose stores that were only minutes away from carrying me through this torture agony burning enlightening experience.

When I passed through the first intersection, a policeman halted traffic, standing by his car while his blue and red flashing lights cautioned approaching drivers. Never in my life have I stopped traffic, well, not intentionally, or had a police officer stand as a witness to my awesomeness awkwardness. Truth be told, someone should have made him secure the intersection with caution tape as I was weaving and zig zagging like an inebriated loon. I kept running into strangers' elbows and knocking small children into ditches. It was at this point I realized that if I am ever going to run in public again, I had better darn well start practicing so I don't get ticketed for taking up both lanes of traffic. I knew I should have worn my beeper to warn the others about the perils of following too closely to a wide load in motion.

After what felt like an eternity, (Read: five minutes), Lindsey and I entered a paved trail through the riverbottoms. It was welcoming and inspiring, as the rising sun glistened off golden leaves clinging to branches and scattering the dewy ground around us. I took another deep breath hoping to stabilize my pace and settle in to the beauty around me. However, it wasn't long into our journey that we came against natural hazards hindering our progress on the trail. The course had been flooded and there did not appear to be an alternate path through the trees. Lindsey and I braved the first pool of water, being careful not to soak ourselves as we carefully trodded through the water and marshy grass beneath our feet. We soon came to another body of water and it was so deep and wide that we didn't dare pass through it. We paused for only a brief moment and tried to cut a path through the trees around us. We ended up back at the first pool of water and then decided to cross an open field. In the distance, we could see where the field rejoined the trail and realized this was our best option. I found it surprising, though, that there were some who refused to deviate from the established course. They ran through the water, splashing and soaking themselves as they remained true to their course.

Turning towards the field, Lindsey and I were greeted with thorns and briars clawing at our legs and nipping at our ankles. Several other runners followed on this detour as we dodged our thistly antagonists while trying to keep our pace. When we met once again with the paved course, we rejoined the other runners and continued on our path of climbing hills and coasting valleys.

For the next little while, we ran through the trail and made the turn towards home. We couldn't see the ending point but we knew that we were getting closer. I had developed a side cramp yet visualized markers along my path to keep myself going. Lindsey kept encouraging me and told me funny stories along the way. I think this is the nature of life. When things seem difficult, heaven throws a friend in your path to lighten your load, hold your hand and share an off-color joke with you if that's what it takes to keep you pressing forward.

When we reached the home stretch, I was energized by the warm welcome we received from the home crowd. They were cheering and clapping, even calling us by name. I felt a rush of adrenaline and lengthened my stride as Lindsey and I crossed the finish line together. And sitting there, waiting to welcome us home, was sweet little Jacob, bundled in blankets, flanked by the members of his family.

It was inspiring to see and feel the love that surrounded this little boy. It was so tangible that my eyes watered at the thought of it, my mind making a concerted effort to refrain from tearful embarrassment that early in the morning. Standing there looking at Jacob, I noticed that it did not matter when we crossed the finish line or the time it took us to complete our journey. It only mattered that we came home and encouraged the others who were still finding their way. We started the race together, full of excitement and anticipation, and we finished the race together, full of gratitude and joy for the opportunity presented us. As in life, we prepare for our journey the best we know how but we can never imagine what lies ahead of us as we navigate the twists and turns in our path. We often have to make adjustments to our course, choose alternate paths of travel and dodge unforseen obstacles. Some of us get cramps along the way while others are troubled with stray rocks in our shoes or paths that became unclear. Through our detours and our missteps, we each choose our course and we each find our way home. And the joyful welcome we receive erases any memory of the pain.

When people ask me why I run, I always say that my favorite part about running is stopping. Although I look forward to crossing the finish line so I can bask in the power of deliverance, perhaps what I love most about running is the opportunity I have to improve a little bit every day. As my endurance grows stronger, I learn to accept my challenges, work through my obstacles and refine the parts of my routine that hold me back and discourage me. It is when I am willing to run through the discomfort and keep an eye on my goal that I can feel the subtle changes in my performance.

As a side note, I think it is important to celebrate our victories along the way, no matter how small or insignificant they may seem at the time. Lindsey and I did not have any paparazzi willing to brave the cold, so we had to wait until we arrived home to get our glamour shots. In the spirit of celebration, Lindsey gave her best cheerleader impersonation, even though her chorus line kick isn't featured in the collage. One day when I look back on this experience, I hope that I remember the feelings of the day and how the challenge inspired me to become better, to do better, to recognize better in others. For we all know that challenges in this life are spiritual gifts in disguise, and what could bend us like iron in one minute will temper us like steel in the next.