Run with what you brung

On Saturday, February 6, I completed a 20 mile trail run. I would love to say that I won the race or made incredible time. Instead, I brought and extra 15lbs of body weight, about 15 weeks too little training, poor sleep and mediocre attitude. Needless to say, I had a lot of time to think and reflect during the run. I was determined to just do it. A lot of things happened during my time. About 6 miles into the race the 8-mile runners starting catching up with me (they started and hour after). I was a little envious but, really, more impressed. These guys and gals were fast. About 9 miles into the run, I began having a lot of knee pain. I had been struggling with the uphill climbs, and now, the downhills and flats offered little reprieve. My muscles were too weak to recover quickly enough and keep me smooth on the downhills, and my joints had taken so much pounding, the flats hurt, too. But I smiled at my lack of preparation and kept going. About 12 miles into it, I started meeting the 40-mile runners (they started and hour before). Almost everyone of them I met said "good job" or "looking good, keep it up." These guys were encouraging ME. They were running 40 miles and encouraging ME. That was a great feeling. Even greater was when I opened my mouth and said "good job" to those that I met or passed me. I was even more encouraged by offering encouragement.

Early into the run, I realized I had invited God along. He was with me the whole time. Then I got to wondering if others had invited Him along. I wondered what they were running for or how well they were running or with "what" were they running. Did they have baggage? Good preparation? Bad preparation?

I wondered about Mike's run. He had 39 years. Unlike my run, he did not know the time or distance, but he certainly seemed to prepare. He knew he was a finite something, a terminal being. He seemed to know who he was, where he was, what he was, and what he had. He seemed to know he had limited time for his run and that he was going to enjoy as much of it as he could. Better still, he knew the end result...the end is a new beginning.

My last post was about my laments. I won't lie. I was not really sure how to get away from that. I even debated on being done with my posts. I was not sure how to move past the pain, the hurt, the loss. But during my run, I was being taught a great deal about life. My run hurt, though, at times, it was exhilirating despite the pain. Total strangers encouraged me. I encouraged total strangers. None of us knew each others' stories, but we knew each other had their own race to run. Some were much better than others. In fact, down right awesome. Some were awkward and struggled. All were determined. The uphills were struggles, the downhills weren't always better. The flats offered recovery, with caution. I moved through the pain and the hurt of the run. I moved passed the loss of delusions of grandeur for a great run. I finished. All of my extra weight, undertrained, grief-stricken, sleep-deprived self.

My little friend, Kira, would have been 4 on February 6. She seemed to know a little more about her own run, too. She lived quite a life in her short time.

The pain is not gone. I am learning how to move through it. Sometimes I walk, sometimes I jog, sometimes, I run, sometimes I limp. But I will keep moving.

We must run the race that is set before us. Run with what you brung.