My daughter gave me a bracelet to wear last week that I proudly put on as I was honored that she even asked. The red, white and green sparkle beads glistened under my work shirt, as May calls it, and the reindeer charm that dangled outside of my suit jacket was the accent that really gave me that "pop." It was the coolest thing I had on and I know people were staring at it as I also had to deliver some remarks to about 150 people last Friday. If they weren't listening to what I had to say, at least they were paying attention to me and my bracelet as I tried to talk with my hands as much as possible to make sure that they knew that May was right there with me.
After my talk, I raced to the airport, changed in the car (I was the weirdo in the parking lot that day) and caught my plane to Asheville, NC to "race" in the Mount Mitchell Challenge the next morning. One of the greatest races I have ever entered. Think midtown Manhattan at rush hour, in the summer, in the back of a cab with no air conditioning...on opposite day. This race is all about friendly people, great organization, outstanding views and we got as lucky as you can get with the sunny and cool weather.
However, long story short, I am not a runner. When the police car escort passed me at mile .5, yes half a mile into the 40 mile course, I knew this was going to be a severely long day. I never ran a mile under 10:30 pace (I averaged 16 minute miles) because I was completely incoherent as to the complexity of this course. When people gave me advice to train on hills, I decided to muscle my way through a well manicured golf course in the dark. When a race organizer said I should get to a mountain before the race, I felt the local parking garage would suffice. Needless to say, the rocks, roots, inclines, slippery slopes, altitude and intermittent ice patches forced me to concentrate on, literally, every step I took that day.
I couldn't believe that ANYONE would be able to run at a fast pace in these conditions. All I kept thinking about was tweaking an ankle, head-butting a boulder as I fell from tweaking an ankle or why I was running with a great group of people that were 20 years older than me, yet able to keep a conversation going for hours. I made it to mile 14, the checkpoint where if you didn't get there by 3 hours or less then you were turned around to head back to town, and realized that I was at hour 4 of the race. It was the first time, in my life, that I actually thought of dropping out of race. I kept thinking that the people here are so nice, so friendly, they feed me, give me drinks, (They were the equivalent of the first person in high school who could drive; everyone wanted to be with them) so why would I want to go back on the course. The words were on the tip of my tongue...."I quit." I knew how easy it would be to say those words to them and they wouldn't judge me. I knew that that crew would take care of me as I was suffering through my highly unprepared outing.
So May, thank you! Thank you for giving me your bracelet to wear. Thank you for giving me the reminder I needed to leave that place and the chance to not say anything at all as I grabbed a handful of Costco Trail Mix, groop as we call it at home, stuff my mouth and run away from the comfort of the heated leather seats I knew would give me the false impression that everything was better. Your bracelet, May, reminded me that this was for you and Cowboy. I will endure the pain of the next 12 downhill miles as my quads cramp, my toes push into the front of my shoes, my big toenail becomes blacker and I essentially stumble to the finish line.
That day wasn't my best day, as the billy goats, the rest of the runners who didn't seem to complain as much as me about the course as they eased into a physiologic morning rhythm, crossed the finish line with the same bright smile as each person before them. My smile, when I crossed, was as big as theirs...I knew I got to see you the next morning and thank you, in person, for the reindeer bracelet.
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