I have a dear friend who loves me and has many plans for my life.
Thanks to her, I camped for the first time. This may not sound like a big deal unless you also know my whole life I’d regarded roughing it as having to go down the hall to the ice machine.
At her urging, I was the lead car in a trek to the beach, which I assure you was a big deal, with my lifelong fear of getting lost. I hoped by complying, I’d internalize her assertion, “You’re never really lost. You just temporarily don’t know where you are.” But, no surprise, it will take more than one trip to fully make that position my own.
Once it was her idea that a few of us could compete in our school’s talent show. We could dress up in fuzzy slippers and pjs and sing “Sandman” before a crowd of our peers. And we did it, too.
And at her initiative, I blew bodacious, bubblicious sized bubble gum bubbles in a contest, and planted flowers that actually grew; with her I hiked trails, raised children and celebrated milestones.
So I suppose it was only to be expected one of these fine days, at her initiative, I would find myself registering to run a 5K.
“But I don’t even run,” I objected.
“Nonsense,” she returned. “See that stop sign? Cross the street and reach it quickly. …There, see? You are a runner. That’s called running, whether it’s five steps or five kilometers. Now all you have to do is practice those five steps until you work up to the five K.”
And practice I did until the appointed Saturday morning, when she picked me up to head to the race. Once there, I nervously milled about in the group of seasoned veterans and other newbies, all of us with our numbers pinned to our shirts, ready and waiting for showtime.
The course was described — to the corner, left, under the trees, across the field, up the hill, through the development, up another hill, and so on until the finish line. ANNNNNND…we were off.
Well.
As is so often true in life, it was harder in practice than theory. I don’t mean at first. No, it was fine to the corner, and left, and even under the trees, but about six minutes into the whole endeavor, my body asked my mind exactly what did I think I was doing, and demanded I stop it right this minute. I rethought what I had gotten into, only by then, of course, it was Too Late To Back Out Without Losing Face.
So I kept going, playing mind-games with myself to get to this tree, then that fence, alternating actual running with puesdo-running, vowing that the next time (if there was a next time), I would bring music to listen to…and wear fewer layers so maybe then I wouldn’t have all this sweat in my eyes… though I was pretty sure I would still have this stitch in my side and a powerful desire to sit (but only for a minute, and only to catch my breath, and not because I was quitting) …when, in the midst of my dithering, it dawned on me, that — though I would never be first, I might well be last — beat out by even that lady over there who looked to be twice my age.
And so I plunged on. For one thing, my friend was way ahead and she was my ride home.
And for another, I discovered that there were water stations sprinkled along the course at which we could be refreshed, and enthusiastic supporters who’d come out to clap, and cheer us along the way, though they couldn’t do the running for us.
The water, the friendly camaraderie, and the occasional flat, shady spaces meant I could catch my breath and wipe my forehead enough to get to the next tree, and the next corner, until finally, up ahead, the finish line could be seen!
In all honesty, this last stretch did not feel like I expected based on the movies I’d seen, where the hero glimpses the finish line, throws his head back and sprints triumphantly to break the tape a split second ahead of the nearest competitor. No, it felt like I was slogging in slo-mo through sand. My untested body was nearly spent. I found it all I could do to go left-right-left-right to the very end. The effort demanded of racing was more than I had bargained for, requiring every single bit of stubborn focus and general encouragement to stay in the race and complete it.
Friends, family, it made me think. We can’t run this race of life by ourselves. We need courage called out to us, and paper cups of cold water handed to us, and little shady spaces where our spirits can be revived to help us go the distance. Some of us are new to racing, and others have been running for a long, long time.
So. Question: Who around us might need the cheer, the water, the space we could offer? Even a little something, an ordinary almost-nothing, can be just what helps at just the right time. For example, I later learned another runner had used my pace (of all things) to help her set her own. So though I wasn’t going fast or consistently, and though I didn’t even know my little bit made a difference, I found out afterwards it did.
I was so glad to learn this, I almost agreed to another 5K.
Almost.
