.jpg)
When I signed up for the race back in March, I was mired in
loneliness and the desperation of wanting companionship. In the three months
before the training began, I bought Layla (my motorcycle), moved into my own
place, and spent a lot of time alone – the way I have done the majority of my
training. In the past, when training for a longer race, I frequently ran my
long runs with running partners. This time, it was all me with the exception of
one long run. (That was the 14 mile run I pulled my hamstring. I was so
thankful to have Rebecca with me to give guidance on what to do so I could
continue the run.) My runs were done without music. While running, I learned to
be one with me. To stop my mind and to be at peace in the moment.
My first half-marathon I ran with a support group. We had
“Team Victor” tee-shirts. We rode up together. We stayed together. We ran
together. In other races, I have always had either family or a close friend
with me. This time, my support group on site looks very different. One of the
members of my Rolling Thunder family will be providing my ride up. (Thank you,
Adam.) A new friend from out-of-state, a former Marine, will be staying with me
for the weekend. The friend I met on the plane on my way to get my hug from
Sean is talking about flying up to see me at the finish line. A parent of a
former student running the race as well will be giving me a ride home. My
circle of friends continues to grow, both in and out of the running arena.
Anyone who knows me from back in the day, remembers me as a
well-endowed girl – far from an athlete. Oh, I played a year of sports in high
school. I warmed the bench well. I was a cheerleader before cheerleading was
considered a sport. To me, a runner is an athlete. One of the toughest things
for me to acknowledge and accept is the fact that I, the bookworm, is an
athlete. A marathon runner. Today, I could deny it no more.
My afternoon classes asked about the race today. It began
when a student asked when it was. In a matter of seconds, a buzz filled the
room. Their energy was unexpected and contagious. They asked about my bib
number. They showed interest in tracking my progress. They are in awe that I
will spend somewhere on either side of five hours running. During a group
activity, a student drew a picture of me crossing the finish line on the board.
At carpool, I caught a flash of hot pink out of the corner of my eye. A parent
was putting up a sign for all to see. I am not sure where the tears came from,
but it took me a few minutes to regain my composure after seeing it. Was it
just last year I was concerned about losing my job because of getting a divorce
and riding a motorcycle?
On Sunday, I will be running 26.2 miles with a great group
of people – my children, my family, my students both past and present, parents
of the students, the members of Rolling Thunder, my colleagues, Facebook
friends both near and far, military men and woman past and present, and anybody
else who has crossed my path and encouraged me in some way. I have no doubt
that somewhere during those 26.2 miles, the spirit of your influence will be
running beside me.
Comments
Post a Comment