Nine and a half hours...

Yesterday I ran 32.5 miles of trail. It took me 9 hours 35min and 16 seconds. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. I started running long ten years ago when I saw my big brother run his first marathon. I saw all the people in different shapes and sizes running fast/slow/in between and I thought "I could do that". When my family snickered at my hubris I was that much more determined and I started running the very next day. I didn't stop for 6 months until I crossed the finish line. Last November I went to run a 10k sort of on a lark, to support a friend who was running her first 50k, a distance I couldn't wrap my mind around. There I experienced that wonder anew as I watched men and women of all shapes and sizes digging deep and running long. In particular, I met one woman who was on a quest. I didn't know quite what the quest was but I could just feel it. She had run several recent marathons and was now a Maniac (whatever that was). She was in the last 10k of her 50k and with double pneumonia she, like everyone else, was hurting. But she kept going. She was upbeat and positive in spite of the physical challenges. She shared a GU with me. I thought it might have just been the endorphins in the air but I felt a heart connection with this stranger and as I drove myself home that day I felt like maybe we wouldn't be strangers much longer.

On April 10th I ran my first marathon in 10 years. It was rainy and hilly and hard. I had battled shin splints and body image issues and depression all winter but it was my birthday week and I was ready! I started amid a pack of really amazing women. Several of whom I had met that rainy November day. Beside me was the stranger. By now we were FAR from strangers. We had run 5ks and trail runs and exchanged countless messages of encouragement and friendship. She was my pacer and my friend. When I hit the wall emotionally very early on (mile 6) she just kept running and encouraged me to think about something else and to "change the soundtrack" in my head. When I came over the wall 8miles later she was still there to celebrate. At the finish line she beat me to the tears but just barely.

On May 1st I ran the next marathon. Again, my friend at my side from the very beginning. I had told her my goal was to stay positive no matter what. I knew running wasn't going to kill me so I was determined to make the most of it in my soul and spirit. I wanted to stay grateful for the capacity and the privilege to run. We packed "Jelly Beans of Optimism" and hit the road running. This time the wall was physical. I started to really hurt just before hitting the half way point. I knew it was only a matter of time before I would shuffle over the finish line and so I kept moving through the pain. My feet hurt, my knees felt like they might be made of broken glass. I was just in so much pain. But we laughed and sang and, this time with the presence of yet another inspiring woman, made it across the finish line together. The three Amigas.

There had been a bunch of schedule shuffling and gall bladder removal surgery and general upheaval in the weeks leading up to the race and thus, I had spent some serious time coming to terms with the idea that I might well be alone for much of this race. I was ok with that. The stranger had another race she was responsible to that weekend and my pit crew was in varying stages of readiness to jump in for legs. I had my head in the game though. And I knew the stranger would be meeting me at some point before the end to help bring me in. The night before joy of joys, the stranger texted me to let me know she was coming and would be there for the whole thing. This was like music to my soul. I packed my backpack and laied out my shoes and said a little prayer before going to bed.

The next morning I set off with around 100 other people up the trail and over the bridge. Only 40? of us were running to insanity and back but there was a 20k that morning as well. The trail was full of happy strong runners. I was at the back of the pack quite quickly and with the stranger by my side I was perfectly fine with it. I had been last at that marathon 10 years ago and it hadn't killed me then. This wasn't going to kill me either. I was in zen brain. Then the sweeper caught up to us. I started to feel anxious and rushed and guilty for being so slow and asking so much of him to be out here ALL day with me. He was a very pleasant man who had run a killer trail marathon the day before and seemed genuinely fine with whatever I wanted to do. He told us he was a sheriff and showed me his badge. He said he had volunteered to be the sweeper 1. Because he was training for Pikes Peak and an upcoming 100mile race and just wanted to get miles and miles in. (I told him he was more likely to just get hours and hours in) and 2. Volunteering for this race gave him free entry into another race later in the season and he was going to pick a big expensive one so he was "just happy to be here". I realized after a while that I was the only one who questioned my presence on the trail and it was rude to project it onto him so I mostly shut that train of thought down.

The first 20k was not so bad. My low back was hurting and I was having odd pelvic cramps but other than that it was nothing I couldn't handle. The stranger and I had a lot to catch up on from the weeks apart. At the 2ok mark LFS joined us and she was a breath of fresh air. She happily plodded along at my shuffling pace. This 10k segment was a loop at the top of the trail and it was steep climb after steep climb. Every climb seemed to induce profound nausea in me. I felt like my stomach was being forced into my lungs and I was sure my low back would break. LFS carried my water pack for me for the last 2/3 of the loop. The tears came on this loop. Though only a few because it was too hard to cry, breathe and try to avoid puking up the hills. I knew in my heart that I was going to finish. I was just experiencing sad and afraid. It was ok I kept saying over and over "I'm OK. I'm just sad. This is just hard". LFS just walked beside me and gave me her quiet strength. Something I will never forget. She carried me up that hill if she knows it or not. All the while the stranger stayed just a bit ahead of me modeling "doing it" just like I needed her to. She ran on the flats and the down hills and walked the ups. One foot in front of the other. All the while my cop was right at my heels.

When we finished the Everest Loop as I will now forever refer to it, I saw my husband at the top of the rise to the aid station. "Honey! Put on your shoes and take off your pants. I need you". He snapped into action. I struggled to get some boiled potato dragged in salt and half of a chocolate ensure down while he geared up. I heard the stranger talking to the folks at the table "Yeah, I want to keep her moving". We were off and shuffling again. The next little while was the 10k of painful feet. I kept chasing the cramps with apple cider vinegar mixed with ginger syrup and grape juice. The nausea kept after me for hours. Finally we reached the last aid station and I knew that there was only another 10k left and I could certainly do that. It was almost all down hill too. No more heart breaking, back breaking, nausea producing climbs. But my body was hurting so much. My feet no longer able to modify the stride or the strike to ease the pain, my hips and knees no longer able to absorb the pounding. I felt beat.

Somewhere in the last 3 miles something snapped. I couldn't listen to anyone talking any more. I couldn't interact anymore. I was struggling so hard I didn't know what was going to happen to me. I went someplace else. I imagined holding my brain like a crying infant and said "there there, go to sleep". I said this over and over until my busy brain finally gave up and went to sleep. I don't remember any of the conversations or much of the surroundings. I just know that I started running again. Not the waddle of the pregnant penguin (I know they lay eggs but that is how I felt). I was running. Slowly but full out. My body didn't hurt. My vision was mostly dim except where the path of least resistance seemed to glow, inviting my feet to "tread here. This is the easiest and safest path". I just went with it. A few times I sort of came out of it and started to struggle but I just whispered "There there, back to sleep" and I was gone again. The stranger and G took off just before the finish line and my cop went too. It was safe now. I was assured a finish. I put my whole heart into those last 2.5 miles and I finished stronger than I have ever finished anything in my life. It was not the broken shuffle of a girl in over her head. It was the strongest run I had and it WAS a run. My little family was around me and some perfect strangers on a picnic table shouted and clapped as I crossed the finish line. Spent but proud. Inspired by my own actions. Drenched in gratitude.

Even when it has to be your own body on the wrack it is the love and support all around that make things like this possible. These are the fires where friendship is born and where people become heroes to themselves. I must honestly say that I don't fear pregnancy and childbirth the same way I did on May 28th. I have a strength inside that I never could have fathomed. I have steel inside. Additionally, I have love all around. Between the two, anything, ANYTHING is possible. The stranger showed me that.