JustRunJustLiveJustBe

We spoke of sun and sand and sea
Of trying to find purpose and life and honesty

He said he liked beaches and mountains and rum
Didn’t understand those who didn’t like fun

I said my two favorite things were flip flops and freedom
He agreed, I could barely believe him

He said he loved family and together and friends
I loved hearing that so much I wanted to dance

We laughed and mused well into the night
Shared made-up fantasies of catching the next flight

He believed in hard work, always knew it would pay
I nodded my head so much he asked if I was okay

He told jokes and grinned, turns out he wasn’t so shy
I couldn’t tell if he was nervous, I laughed until I cried

It all seemed so perfect, no keeping score
And it could have worked out, if he wasn’t seventy-four

Sometimes I realize how lucky I am and it stops me in my tracks. I’m on the way down the hall to fill up my water bottle at the drinking fountain and I get half way there and I just have to stop because I’m nearly consumed by the thought of just how good I have it.

I am still high from all the feelings of the relay experience. I just can’t believe the way twelve people can come together and accomplish something with such strength and humor and spirit. And it doesn’t just stop there, I have a wonderful family, too. A family who watches my dog while I’m away and waters my flowers and brings in the mail. I wouldn’t be able to have half the freedom I do without the foundation they provide. And a grandmother who turns eighty-one this week. Eighty-one! I’m just amazed by her, and her stories and wisdom. I’m so thankful she’s healthy and here to share with me.

And I have friends, near and far. Running friends, school friends, and yes, even blogging friends. I do consider that a friendship, you know. We learn together, laugh together, share some good times and some crap times. That’s got to be one definition of friendship and don’t let anyone tell you it’s not.

Things like this are so easy to overlook if we aren’t careful. We can be so driven to what’s next that we forget to take stock in what’s right now. I don’t want to forget that. I don’t want to be the girl that’s so upset she didn’t win a trip to Mexico on the radio this morning that she forgets she has plans every night this week with friends and is going to sing [badly] at the top of her lungs at a concert on Saturday. And I am so definitely not that girl because do you know how long it’s been since I’ve gone to a concert? At least three months and that, my friend, is far too long.

There have been some bad times lately. Some disappointing people, some crud so deep even your tallest boots would fail you but you know, today is just one of those days where it’s not front row. Yeah, those troubles are out there, looming somewhere. But all I’ve got to do is let them be, let them stay out there in the back for the moment. You see, there are these bright, blazing lights shining up front here and for now, that’s all I need.

Maybe it’s just a life full of plans or having just come off a great running experience but my gosh, I have some good stuff and good people in my life and I’m just so incredibly grateful I can barely stand it.

The relay was, in short, awesome. As a runner, the chance to participate in a true team effort does not come around often. If there were any words describe how truly remarkable it is to live in a van for over twenty-four hours with five other people and come out of it saying you’d turn around tomorrow and do it all over again I don’t know them. It is impossible to capture all the moments of hilarity, support and spirit.

I was really lucky to be in a van with five positive, selfless people. I believe that must be the key to a good relay experience. If you have people that aren’t willing to put their own pain or exhaustion aside for the moment, you’d have a very difficult time.

My team, and so many others I encountered along the way, were fantastic. The first legs of this race were unbelievably hot. The desert-like heat was somewhat uncharacteristic for the Utah mountains. When I ran my first leg on Friday morning, it was already ninety degrees (F). Temperatures would later rise above 100 degrees (F) into the afternoon. It was incredibly draining and I thought if this is how I’m starting out, barely unsure if I’d be able to complete 6 miles in that heat, how are the rest of the legs going to go? If a block of ice in my hand didn’t even feel cold, what were the teammates following me going to do? At one point, a kid standing at the end of a driveway with a hose sprayed me right in the face and it felt so good I just stopped and stood there, letting him spray me. I was soaked but dry in less than four minutes. Hot, people. Very, very hot.

Surprisingly, once the temps cooled down, I was a new woman. The pace picked up and I felt that I could actually run again. I was certain that second leg would be my best of the relay. My third leg was run at sunrise the next morning. I’m not going to lie, it was tough. I was spent after that third leg. But it, too, minus the heat, was fantastic. As hard as I worked, as tough as it all was, this relay made me feel like a runner again. I wasn’t worried about injury or time, I just went out there and ran. It felt good to push myself and even though I thought there was no way I’d complete the third leg without walking, I not only ran the entire thing but kept my pace about a minute below what was projected. I could not be happier.

Largely, though, the running in this relay was almost secondary. It was the team that pulled me through, I have no doubt. The support, the encouragement, the inside jokes in the van, those all got me through. A moment didn’t pass where we weren’t laughing about something and with sleep deprivation looming larger with each passing hour, everything became even more hilarious.

I’m lacking both sleep and sufficient words right now to communicate how special this event was. Simply put, I’m so thankful to have been a part of it, I can’t wait to do it all over again and, in my opinion, any runner not willing to try one of these some day is missing out.

At it again. There are roads to drive, roads to run. I’m off to do the relay thing. It’s brand new to me, I really don’t know what to expect. I’m doing it anyway.

I haven’t conveyed my anxiety about this event to anyone. There are a couple of reasons but perhaps the most important is I’m just not properly trained for it. In my mind I’m not, anyway. If you look at either of the training schedules and then compared them to my log, it is, in a word, frightening.

The race organizers encourage diligent training for this. From what I hear of my team and dozens of others, many choose not to follow the plan anyway. This does not make me feel any better. The plan has you running two or three-a-days (I have done a few), doing speed work (does not compute) and running hills (which I’d like to avoid but here in mountain land, I fortunately cannot).

I have not been running this way.

I have been running for fun. I have been running for stress relief. I have been running to get the travel weight off and the sun on my face. I have not been wearing a watch. I have been running just enough to not piss off my knees. People around me are very disapproving of this. They think I am crazy or “asking for it” by running. I am running anyway.

(Sidebar: These are the same people, however, that send me ridiculous email “surveys” that I never answer because they ask questions like: If you died and were trapped in a bubble and could see no one for the rest of eternity, what three things would you take with you? And then they get upset when instead of saying photos of my family or inspirational novels I respond with beer, birthday cake and Jimmy Buffett. I just don’t think about being trapped in a bubble of the afterlife. I prefer to think about life.)

My doctor, the ever-wise, blue-eyed comedian that he is, says running cannot make my knees worse. It is up to my discretion and my pain tolerance, at this point. That’s sort of like putting me behind the counter at an ice cream shop and telling me it is up to me what to do with the ice cream that day. Does he not know me at all? I have permission, I CANNOT CONTROL WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.

There’s another side to this, though. It’s the me side. The side that cannot wait to get on the road for 500 miles just to complete 178 more with my team. A team of men and women of all ages, from all over, of all different abilities. The fun, the running, the work, the up all night, the celebration, the smell of the van after fifteen hours or more. I cannot wait.

So there might be a little pain. So I might be slower than I’d like. So I might stink. Might. Might. Might. If I can’t make it any worse by running, then I’m going to go ahead and make everything else better.

I won’t live in the might, I’ll just live anyway.

“If Jon Stewart were here, what would you say then?”

“Why do you always refer to celebrities by their first and last name?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“No really. Just say Jon, I know who you mean.”

“You can’t just say Jon like you’re talking about your neighbor or something.”

“But what if he was your neighbor?”

“Well I wouldn’t just say Jon then, either.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d prefer to use the term Secret Boyfriend.”

I was just sitting here, and like a flash flood this memory just came to mind. It’s late Autumn, almost Winter. The snow is falling outside and hundreds of people are crowded into my high school gym for a basketball game against our biggest rival.

It’s hotter than July in that place. You’re having so much fun you can barely stand it. The bleachers are rocking. The anticipation might kill you right there. As the clock ticks down, the volume goes up. You can’t even hear the ref’s whistle, it’s so loud.

“Warm up the bus! Warm up the bus! Warm up the bus!”

We knew we were going to win.

Man, those were fun times.

Who knows where that came from. Basketball isn’t really my thing. High school seems so long ago. But a memory like that, it’s welcome any time.

It’s the place that took years to find and yet, the one place you have always known. It’s warm air, hot sand, crickets and tree frogs. It’s full of life and devoid of chaos. It’s tall palms, winding roads, open-air jeeps and warm rain.

It’s diversity, commonality, sugar cane and love. It’s open waters, full sails, dinghy docks and pirate tales. It’s early morning swimming, Mic’s too-spicy Bloody Marys and laughter floating across the waves. It’s wisdom from a legend who describes himself as just a man. It’s the boy who stopped to visit and never left, the girl who followed her heart and all the dreams caught in between.

It’s away from it all and close to your soul. It’s blackened shrimp at that table by the dumpster and drinks on the curb. It’s the sun on your face high on the hill and the rooster crowing at four in the afternoon. It’s a friend where a stranger once was, a sunrise only matched by it’s own sunset, slowing down and lying low.

It’s the secret you want to keep yet can’t help but share. It’s the beach where everything seems possible, where you seem so small. It’s peace, it’s hope and in so many ways, it’s just like home.