my 13 mile journey

Once again I found myself in Moab for the Canyonlands 1/2 Marathon event yesterday. My usually posse was in tow ... Heather, Hal, & Eric ... and few extra friends joined in the challenge ... Robyn, Pete, Brad, and John.

The day began as it always does ... an early morning rise, a bagel and banana and a bus ride up the canyon. We chatted in anticipation about what we thought our performance would be like. We laughed, we shivered, we waited. So what was different this time you may ask?

Two months ago I had major surgery. In many ways I have healed well ... but I find my stamina is not back to 100%. My endurance comprised. The few attempts I have made to run have left me sore and I have not pushed myself as I probably should knowing 13.1 miles were in my future.

I shared my thoughts of changing my run from the 1/2 marathon to the 5 mile race. If only I'd learn to listened to my head and not followed my heart. The thought of boarding a different bus, headed to a different location without my friends was more disheartening than the knowledge I had of how sore my body would be if I did the 1/2. I chose to stay in the 1/2.

09:55 AM, the boys left us to take their place near the front of the crowd ... us girls waited. 10:00 AM the race started ... as we began our descent ... the first few steps into the run I knew I was in trouble. I knew my choice was not the best one for me. I tried to pace with Heather ... I can almost always keep up with her for at least 2-3 miles ... I don't think I even made it with her for 1/4 of a mile.

It's a humbling feeling to know the distance that lies before you, to know you have friends nearby for support, but yet they are to far to help you take the next step. The realization that you find yourself faced with a journey that only you can make.

I began to shed the layers of clothes that while I sat stationary I needed for warmth and comfort ... and now they weighted me down. My legs already felt tired and heavy, my lungs burned as they filled so completely with deep breaths ... something they had not had to do for some time. And the wind blew. It was not a gently breeze to tease your senses it was mother nature in full force. It slowed you down, it blew dust in your face, it stole from me my ambition. And I'm not even to mile 1 yet.

I always find it amazing, the thoughts you think in that canyon. There is something peaceful there even in the face of adversity. Finally, Neil Armstrong (the voice in my IPOD) announces I've reached mile 1. Then mile 2 and finally 3. The crowd was already considerably thin ... survival of the fittest and the fittest had already made good time to leave us in the dust. Literally. I was left with the weak, the novice, and the old ... all of us fighting our own battles ... all of us wondering if we could elude the sweep. (for those who do not run ... if you are too slow, if you take too long the buses come down and pluck you from the course. There is not finish line for you, no glory ... you are done).

Somewhere in my mind I come to the decision that I am too weak, too out of shape, too defeated to do this run. I tell myself that I will push to mile 5 ... but then I'm finished. I will look for the first sweep vehicle after mile 5 and quit my first race ever. In this moment, although disappointed, I'm OK with the choice. If I don't finish, its OK I tell myself. I tried.

Mile 4 is a blur, I'm walking more that running. I can barley keep a running pace for 1 full song on my IPOD. I finally make it to Mile 5 ... but where is the sweep vehicle. I haven't seen one ... and feel it would be awkward to just stand and wait ... so I keep moving.

Did I mention the wind? I hate the wind. It is my nemesis ... It visits my home often, it rips shingles from my roof, it howls, as if in great pain, thru the gap in my front door. The wind taunts me ... I hate the wind. And now here I am struggling physically and the wind blows. It blows hard as I attempt a running pace ... so I allow myself to walk. As if the defeat isn't enough the wind blows harder picking up dirt and debris to hurl at me.

Mile 6 - an accomplishment by any measurement ... but still not even half way. I see a mini van coming ... do I flag them down? I'm not injured ... not really.... I ache and I'm tired ... how do I tell a stranger that I want to quit?

An old man passes me ... his gray hair whips in the wind, his stride is crooked and back slightly bent ... and yet he smiles as he wills his body to perform. I remember my favorite mantra ... "someday I will not be able to do this, today is not that day!" ... and I let the mini van pass.

The canyon, as always is breath taking. I look up the walls of jagged rock, minimal vegetation, and see only the beauty of the red color as it meets the green Colorado river. My mind drifts from the pain and fatigue and I think of life. I think of my current path and how disappointed I am with the direction it has been going in. And I start to cry ... slow, quiet tears creep down my cheek and I let them fall. And I realize my life IS this run. I am so tired and feel alone and I could easily choose to sit down, close my eyes, and wait for the end. But if I do that ... what will I miss? What beautiful scenery awaits me if I continue the journey? What experience would I miss? What lesson would I not learn? But instead of defeat I could choose to take another step, and another and another. I may not be as fast as some, as graceful as others ... but if continue the journey I will find myself at the same destination, in the same celebration of victory and accomplishment. And I'm not alone ... my friends- no my family are waiting for me. If I called out to them for help they'd come ... they are with me letting my find my strength and ready to catch me if I fall.

Mile 8 - what happened to 7? I missed it? How, when? I'm now running from this sign to that one. Telling myself I've walked enough and it's time to run ... and then telling myself it's ok to walk when the running hurts too much.

Mile 9 - the hill from h***. I watch a girl trot the massive incline ... I want to but my body buckles from fatigue. But it's ok. She is in a different place on her journey. I am OK with that. I am OK with me and my accomplishment.

Mile 10 - I'm almost out of the canyon ... I will finish what I started.

The tears now are tears of relief as I realize that I really am ok. I may hurt a little, but I will heal. It may look like I'm alone, but I'm not. I feel weak, but my inner strength will prevail. More runners pass me ... Mile 11, mile 12 ... I am ready to be done.

Finally, mile 13 ... I see the finish. I want to hurry now, but I cant, physically. The only thing that matter is I will make it to the finish line. My friends are here, with words of encouragement, with hugs of pride. I did it!

I'm not ready for the next 'race' but know what I have to do to be ready. I know life my be daunting, and the wind may be blowing ... but I see sunshine on the horizon. I choose to continue pushing on. Taking another step forward, no matter how slow I know I'll make it to my destination.