I "Get" to...

This weekend, I get to run. I don’t have to run, but I get to run. Understand? Although I have developed several hypothesis on why my quads gave out on me at Bear, there are still no clear answers, only guesses. And, this weekend, while a vain attempt at redemption for what I didn’t complete in September, is much more than can be expressed in words. This past weekend, while volunteering at an aid station at Cactus Rose for almost 30 hours with Olga, I often pondered what motivates people to put themselves through the physical and mental struggles of running long distances. It seemed to be a continuation of the thoughts that were running rampant in my head during Bear. The one main takeaway was that attitude is everything and often determines the difference between making it to the finish line and quitting. The perspective is interesting when you are at an aid station for almost the entire duration of a race. You get to watch the same runner go through peaks and valleys, with some more significantly pronounced than others. Watching a runner arrive at an aid station at mile 85 after 28 hours and sitting down in a chair and crying like they are mourning the loss of a loved one is, at times, difficult to watch, but you have to feel empathy for them. I once heard a hundred miler described as an entire life live compressed into one race.

While I’m running through the woods, crossing cold rivers and streams, and living my own weekend compression of life, I will be thinking of a Friend who lost a battle with Lou Gehrig’s Disease (ALS) while I was volunteering at Cactus Rose. I would describe him as a once-in-a-lifetime individual—extremely rare. I’ll never forget when I was having a very difficult time emotionally going through my divorce and Dano could, obviously, see the pain in my expression. He told me, “…one day, you’ll be able to smile at the sunrise, again…”. I held onto those words tightly because they gave me hope that things would get better. And, eventually, it did get better. This past weekend, while working the aid station, I watched two sunrises, with the second one being the most spectacular I have ever seen. Crepuscular rays emanating from a single point on the outline of the horizon several minutes before sunrise. It reminded me on those words that got me through a tough time. It would have been perfect if he could have been standing next to me so we could have witnessed it together and so I could have thanked him for words he probably didn’t give a second thought a few years ago.

And, in his death I rediscover my own mortality. And to take words from another’s blog of wise words… “Life throws a thing or few at times. You move on, pick up the pieces, and just make the best of it. Don't ever let anyone else choose your happiness or destiny...just do your best every day, be everything you want to be, and live life the way you truly want it. No time for regrets cause you are here once, and if you let the things you really want to go then they will never come back. Figure out what ya want, and then go and get it~life is just one shot, and one chance to be happy.”

I wish I could have said my “goodbyes” to him at the memorial service this weekend. I’d like to think it’s befitting that I’ll be running 100 miles, instead. While he never ran that distance, I’ll be carrying his spirit with me along the trail. And, as he would say, “It’s a good day to run...”.